THE   HOLY   GRAIL, 

AND    OTHER    POEMS. 


THESE  four  "Idylls  of  the  King"  are  printed  in  their  present 
form  for  the  convenience  of  those  who  possess  the  former  volume. 

The  whole  series  should  be  read,  and  is  to-day  published,  in  tho 
following  order  :  — 

x  THE   COMING   OF  ARTHUR. 


THE    ROUND    TABLE. 

CERA  INT  AND  ENID. 

MERLIN  AND    VIVIEN. 

LANCELOT  AND    ELAINE. 
*  THE  HOLY  GRAIL. 
*PELLEAS   AND   ETTARRE. 

GUINEVERE. 


THE  PASSING    OF  ARTHUR* 

*  This  last,  the  earliest  \vritten  of  the  poems,  is  here  connected  with  the  rest 
in  accordance  with  an  early  project  of  the  author's. 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS. 


ALFEED   TENNYSON,  D.C.L., 

POET   LACK E ATE. 


UNIVERSITY 


FIELDS,    OSGOOD,    &    CO. 
1870. 


IT  is  my  wish  that  with  MESSRS.  TICKNOR  AND  FIELDS  alone 
the  right  of  publishing  my  books  in  America  should  rest. 

ALFRED  TENNYSON. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS:  WELCH,  BIGELOW,  &  Co., 

CAMBRIDGE. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 
9 

35 

PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE 

.      87 

THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR         .        •        •   -    *        • 

121 

THE  NORTHERN  FARMER.    NEW  STYLE 

.     149 

THE  VICTIM      .        .        .        .        .        .        .        , 

156 

WAGES         .        .        .        .        /               .        . 

.     161 

THE  HIGHER  PANTHEISM  .                 , 

163 

"  FLOWER  IN  THE  CRANNIED  WALL  " 

.     165 
166 

THE  G-OLDEN  SUPPER   .         .        .        .        , 

,     181 

THE    COMING    OF    ARTHUR. 


UNIVERSITY 


THE    COMING    OFARTHUR. 


LEODOGRAN,  the  King  of  Cameliard, 
Had  one  fair  daughter,  and  none  other  child ; 
And  she  was  fairest  of  all  flesh  on  earth, 
Guinevere,  and  in  her  his  one  delight. 

For  many  a  petty  king  ere  Arthur  came 
Ruled  in  this  isle,  and  ever  waging  war 
Each  upon  other,  wasted  all  the  land ; 
And  still  from  time  to  time  the  heathen  host 
Swarm'd  overseas,  and  harried  what  was  left. 
And  so  there  grew  great  tracts  of  wilderness, 
Wherein  the  beast  was  ever  more  and  more, 
But  man  was  less  and  less,  till  Arthur  came. 
For  first  Aurelius  lived  and  fought  and  died, 


12  THE    COMING    OF    ARTHUR. 

And  after  him  King  Uther  fought  and  died, 

But  either  fail'd  to  make  the  kingdom  one. 

And  after  these  King  Arthur  for  a  space, 

And  thro'  the  puissance  of  his  Table  Round, 

Drew  all  their  petty  princedoms  under  him, 

Their  king  and  head,  and  made  a  realm,  and  reign 'd. 

And  thus  the  land  of  Cameliard  was  waste, 
Thick  with  wet  woods,  and  many  a  beast  therein, 
And  none  or  few  to  scare  or  chase  the  beast ; 
So  that  wild  dog  and  wolf  and  boar  arid  bear 
Came  night  and  day,  and  rooted  in  the  fields, 
And  wallow'd  in  the  gardens  of  the  king. 
And  ever  and  anon  the  wolf  would  steal 
The  children  and  devour,  but  now  and  then, 
Her  own  brood  lost  or  dead,  lent  her  fierce  teat 
To  human  sucklings  ;  and  the  children,  housed 
In  her  foul  den,  there  at  their  meat  would  growl, 
And  mock  their  foster-mother  on  four  feet, 
Till,  straightened,  they  grew  up  to  wolf-like  men, 


THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR.  13 

Worse  than  the  wolves :  and  King  Leodogran 
Groan'd  for  the  Roman  legions  here  again, 
And  Ccesar's  eagle  :  then  his  brother  king, 
Rience,  assail'd  him :  last  a  heathen  horde, 
Reddening  the  sun  with  smoke  and  earth  with  blood, 
And  on  the  spike  that  split  the  mother's  heart 
Spitting  the  child,  brake  on  him,  till,  amazed, 
He  knew  not  whither  he  should  turn  for  aid. 

But  —  for  he  heard  of  Arthur  newly  crown'd, 
Tho'  not  without  an  uproar  made  by  those 
Who  cried,  "  He  is  not  Uther's  son  "  —  the  king 
Sent  to  him,  saying,  "  Arise,  and  help  us  thou  ! 
For  here  between  the  man  and  beast  we  die," 

And  Arthur  yet  had  done  no  deed  of  arms, 
But  heard  the  call,  and  came  :  and  Guinevere 
Stood  by  the  castle  walls  to  watch  him  pass ; 
But  since  he  neither  wore  on  helm  or  shield 
The  golden  symbol  of  his  kiuglihood, 


14  THE   COMING   OF   ARTHUR. 

But  rode  a  simple  knight  among  his  knights, 
And  many  of  these  in  richer  arms  than  he, 
She  saw  him  not,  or  mark'd  not,  if  she  saw, 
Otfe  among  many,tho'  his  face  was  bare. 
But  Arthur,  looking  downward  as  he  past, 
Felt  the  light  of  her  eyes  into  his  life 
Smite  on  the  sudden,  yet  rode  on,  and  pitch'd 
His  tents  beside  the  forest :  and  he  drave 
The  heathen,  and  he  slew  the  beast,  and  fell'd 
The  forest,  and  let  in  the  sun,  and  made 
Broad  pathways  for  the  hunter  and  the  knight, 
And  so  return'd. 

For  while  he  linger'd  there, 
A  doubt  that  ever  smoulder'd  in  the  hearts 
Of  those  great  Lords  and  Barons  of  his  realm 
Flash'd  forth  and  into  war  :  for  most  of  these 
Made  head  against  him,  crying,  "  Who  is  he 
That  he  should  rule  us  ?  who  hath  proven  him 
King  Uther's  son  ?  for  lo !  we  look  at  him, 


THE    COMING    OF  ARTHUR.  15 

And  find  nor  face  nor  bearing,  limbs  nor  voice, 
Are  like  (o  those  of  Uther  whom  we  knew. 
This  is  the  son  of  Gorlois,  not  the  king. 

'  O 

This  is  the  son  of  Anton,  not  the  king." 

And  Arthur,  passing  thence  to  battle,  felt 
Travail,  and  throes  and  agonies  of  the  life, 
Desiring  to  be  join'd  with  Guinevere ; 
And  thinking  as  he  rode,  "  Her  father  said 
That  there  between  the  man  and  beast  they  die. 
Shall  I  not  lift  her  from  this  land  of  beasts 
Up  to  my  throne,  and  side  by  side  with  me  ? 
What  happiness  to  reign  a  lonely  king, 
Vext  —  O  ye  stars  that  shudder  over  me, 

0  earth,  that  soundest  hollow  under  me, 

Vext  with  waste  dreams  ?  for  saving  I  be  join'd 
To  her  that  is  the  fairest  under  heaven, 

1  seem  as  nothing  in  the  mighty  world, 
And  cannot  will  my  will,  nor  work  my  work 
Wholly,  nor  make  myself  in  mine  own  realm 


16  THE    COMING    OF    ARTHUR. 

Victor  and  lord  ;  but  were  I  join'd  with  her, 
Then  might  we  live  together  as  one  life, 
And  reigning  with  one  will  in  everything 
Have  power  on  this  dark  land  to  lighten  it, 
And  power  on  this  dead  worltf  to  make  it  live." 

And  Arthur  from  the  field  of  battle  sent 
Ulfius,  and  Brastias,  and  Bedivere, 
His  new-made  knights,  to  King  Leodogran, 
Saying,  *;  If  I  in  aught  have  served  thee  well, 
Give  me  thy  daughter  Guinevere  to  wife." 

Whom  when  he  heard,  Leodogran  in  heart 
Debating  —  "  How  should  I  that  am  a  king, 
However  much  he  holp  me  at  my  need, 
Give  my  one  daughter  saving  to  a  king, 
And  a  king's  son  "  —  lifted  his  voice,  and  call'd 
A  hoary  man,  his  chamberlain,  to  whom 
He  trusted  all  things,  and  of  him  required 
His  counsel :  "  Knowest  thou  aught  of  Arthur's  birth  ? " 


THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR.  17 

Then  spake  the  hoary  chamberlain  and  said, 
"  Sir  king,  there  be  but  two  old  men  that  know : 
And  each  is  twice  as  old  as  I ;  and  one 
Is  Merlin,  the  wise  man  that  ever  served 
Kinsj  Uther  thro'  his  ma<nc  art;  and  one 

o  o 

Is  Merlin's  master  (so  they  call  him)  Bleys, 
Who  taught  him  magic ;  but  the  scholar  ran 
Before  the  master,  and  so  far,  that  Bleys 
Laid  magic  by,  and  sat  him  down,  and  wrote 
All  things  and  whatsoever  Merlin  did 
In  one  great  annal-book,  where  after  years 
"Will  learn  the  secret  of  our  Arthur's  birth." 

To  whom  the  King  Leodogran  replied, 
"  0  friend,  had  I  been  holpen  half  as  well 
By  this  King  Arthur  as  by  thee  to-day, 
Then  beast  and  man  had  had  their  share  of  me  : 
But  summon  here  before  us  yet  once  more 
Ulfius,  and  Brastias,  and  Bedivere." 

B 


18  THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR. 

Then,  when  they  came  before  him,  the  king  said, 
"  I  have  seen  the  cuckoo  chased  by  lesser  fowl, 
And  reason  in  the  chase :  but  wherefore  now 
Do  these  your  lords  stir  up  the  heat  of  war, 
Some  calling  Arthur  born  of  Gorlois, 
Others  of  Anton  ?  Tell  me,  ye  yourselves, 
Hold  ye  this  Arthur  for  King  Uther's  son  ?  " 

And  Ulfius  and  Brastias  answer'd,"  Ay." 
Then  Bedivere,  the  first  of  all  his  knights, 
Knighted  by  Arthur  at  his  crowning,  spake,  — 
For  bold  in  heart  and  act  and  word  was  he, 
Whenever  slander  breathed  against  the  king,  — 

"  Sir,  there  be  many  rumors  on  this  head : 
For  there  be  those  who  hate  him  in  their  hearts, 
Call  him  baseborn,  and  since  his  ways  are  sweet, 
And  theirs  are  bestial,  hold  him  less  than  man : 
And  there  be  those  who  deem  him  more  than  man, 
And  dream  he  dropt  from  heaven :  but  my  belief 


THE    COMING    OF    ARTHUR.  19 

In  all  this  matter  —  so  ye  care  to  learn  — 

Sir,  for  ye  know  that  in  King  Uther's  time 

The  prince  and  warrior  Gorlois,  he  that  held 

Tintagil  castle  by  the  Cornish  sea, 

Was  wedded  with  a  winsome  wife,  Ygerne : 

And  daughters  had  she  borne  him,  —  one  whereof 

Lot's  wife,  the  Queen  of  Orkney,  Bellicent, 

Hath  ever  like  a  loyal  sister  cleaved 

To  Arthur,  —  but  a  son  she  had  not  borne. 

And  Uther  cast  upon  her  eyes  of  love : 

But  she,  a  stainless  wife  to  Gorlois, 

So  loathed  the  bright  dishonor  of  his  love 

That  Gorlois  and  King  Uther  went  to  war : 

And  overthrown  was  Gorlois  and  slain. 

Then  Uther  in  his  wrath  and  heat  besieged 

Ygerne  within  Tintagil,  where  her  men, 

Seeing  the  mighty  swarm  about  their  walls, 

Left  her  and  fled,  and  Uther  enterd  in, 

And  there  was  none  to  call  to  but  himself. 

So,  compass'd  by  the  power  of  the  king, 


20  THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR. 

Enforced  she  was  to  wed  him  in  her  tears, 
And  with  a  shameful  swiftness ;  afterward, 
Not  many  moons,  King  Uther  died  himself, 
Moaning  and  wailing  for  an  heir  to  rule 
After  him,  lest  the  realm  should  go  to  wrack. 
And  that  same  night,  the  night  of  the  new  year, 
By  reason  of  the  bitterness  and  grief 
That  vext  his  mother,  all  hefore  his  time 

"Was  Arthur  born,  and  all  as  soon  as  born 

• 

Deliver'd  at  a  secret  postern-gate 

To  Merlin,  to  be  holden  far  apart 

Until  his  hour  should  come ;  because  the  lords 

Of  that  fierce  day  were  as  the  lords  of  this, 

Wild  beasts,  and  surely  would  have  torn  the  child 

Piecemeal  among  them,  had  they  known  ;  for  each 

But  sought  to  rule  for  his  own  self  and  hand, 

And  many  hated  Uther  for  the  sake 

Of  Goiiois :  wherefore  Merlin  took  the  child, 

And  gave  him  to  Sir  Anton,  an  old  knight 

And  ancient  friend  of  Uther ;  and  his  wife 


THE   COMING   OF  AETHUR.  21 

^oung  prince,  and  rear'd  him  with  her  own ; 
And  nu       *  I       v  :  and  ever  since  the  lords 
Have  foughten  like  wild  beasts  among  themselves, 
So  that  the  realm  has  gone  to  wrack :  but  now, 
This  year,  when  Merlin  (for  his  hour  had  come) 
Brought  Arthur  forth,  and  set  him  in  the  hall, 
Proclaiming,  *  Here  is  Uther's  heir,  your  king,' 
A  hundred  voices  cried,  *  Away  with  him ! 
No  king  of  ours  !  a  son  of  Gorlois  he : 
Or  else  the  child  of  Anton  and  no  king, 
Or  else  baseborn.'      Yet  Merlin  thro'  his  craft 
And  while  the  people  clamor'd  for  a  king, 
Had  Arthur  crown'd  ;  but  after,  the  great  lords 
Banded,  and  so  brake  out  in  open  war."  , 

Then  while  the  king  debated  with  himself 
If  Arthur  were  the  child  of  shamefulness, 
Or  born  the  son  of  Gorlois,  after  death, 
Or  Uther's  son,  and  born  before  his  time, 
Or  whether  there  were  truth  in  anything 
Said  by  these  three,  there  came  to  Camel iard. 


22  THE    COMING    OF    ARTHUR. 

With  Gawain  and  young  Modred,  her  two  sons, 
Lot's  wife,  the  Queen  of  Orkney,  Bellicent ; 
Whom  as  he  could,  not  as  he  would,  the  king 
Made  feast  for,  saying,  as  they  sat  at  meat, 

"  A  doubtful  throne  is  ice  on  summer  seas  — 
Ye  come  from  Arthur's  court :  think  ye  this  king  — 
So  few  his  knights,  however  brave  they  be  — 
Hath  body  enow  to  beat  his  foemen  down  ?  " 

"  O  king,"  she  cried,  "  and  I  will  tell  thee :  few, 
Few,  but  all  brave,  all  of  one  mind  with  him ; 
For  I  was  near  him  when  the  savage  yells 
Of  Uther's  peerage  died,  and  Arthur  sat 
Crowned  on  the  da'is,  and  his  warriors  cried, 
4  Be  thou  the  king,  and  we  will  work  thy  will 
Who  love  thee.*     Then  the  king  in  low  deep  tones, 
And  simple  words  of  great  authority, 
Bound  them  by  so  strait  vows  to  his  own  self, 
That  when  they  rose,  knighted  from  kneeling,  some 
Were  pale  as  at  the  passing  of  a  ghost, 


-THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR.  23 

Some  flush'd,  and  others  dazed,  as  one  who  wakes 
Half-folinded  at  the  coming  of  a  light. 

"  But  when  he  spake  and  cheer'd  his  Table  Round 
With  large,  divine,  and  comfortable  words 
Beyond  my  tongue  to  tell  thee  —  I  beheld 
From  eye  to  eye  thro'  all  their  Order  flash 
A  momentary  likeness  of  the  king ; 
And  ere  it  left  their  faces,  thro'  the  cross 
And  those  around  it  and  the  crucified, 
Down  from  the  casement  over  Arthur,  smote 
Flame-color,  vert,  and  azure,  in  three  rays, 
One  falling  upon  each  of  three  fair  queens, 
Who  stood  in  silence  near  his  throne,  the  friends 
Of  Arthur,  gazing  on  him,  tall,  with  bright, 
Sweet  faces,  who  will  help  him  at  his  need. 

"  And  there  I  saw  mage  Merlin,  whose  vast  wit 
And  hundred  winters  are  but  as  the  hands 
Of  loyal  vassals  toiling  for  their  liege. 

*'  And  near  him  stood  the  Lady  of  the  lake,^— 


24  THE   COMING   OF   AHTHTJS. 

Who  knows  a  subtler  magic  than  his  own,  — 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful. 
She  gave  the  king  his  huge  cross-hilted  sword, 
Whereby  to  drive  the  heathen  out :  a  mist 
Of  incense  curl'd  about  her,  and  her  face 

Welinigh  was  hidden  in  the  minster  gloom, 

<• 
But  there  was  heard  among  the  holy  hymns 

A  voice  as  of  the  waters,  for  she  dwells 
Down  in  a  deep,  calm,  whatsoever  storms 
May  shake  the  world,  and,  when  the  surface  rolls, 
Hath  power  to  walk  the  waters  like  our  Lord. 

"  There  likewise  I  beheld  Excalibur 
Before  him  at  his  crowning  borne,  the  sword 
That  rose  from  out  the  bosom  of  the  lake, 
And  Arthur  row'd  across  and  took  it,  —  rich 
With  jewels,  elfin  Urim,  on  the  hilt, 
Bewildering  heart  and  eye,  —  the  blade  so  bright 
That  men  are  blinded  by  it,  —  on  one  side, 
Graven  in  the  oldest  tongue  of  all  this  world, 
1  Take  me/  but  turn  the  blade  and  you  shall  see, 


THE    COMING    OF    ARTHUR. 

And  written  in  the  speech  ye  speak  yourself, 
1  Cast  me  away  ! '  and  sad  was  Arthur's  face 
Taking  it,  but  old  Merlin  counsell'd  him, 
'  Take  thou  and  strike  !  the  time  to  cast  away 
Is  yet  far  off* ;  so  this  great  brand  the  king 
Took,  and  by  this  will  beat  his  foemen  down." 

Thereat  Leodogran  rejoiced,  but  thought 
To  sift  his  doubtings  to  the  last,  and  ask'd, 
Fixing  full  eyes  of  question  on  her  face, 
"  The  swallow  and  the  swift  are  near  akin, 
But  thou  art  closer  to  this  noble  prince, 
Being  his  own  dear  sister";  and  she  said, 
"  Daughter  of  Gorlois  and  Ygerne  am  I" ; 
"  And  therefore  Arthur's  sister,"  asked  the  King. 
She  answer'd,  "  These  be  secret  things,"  and  sign'd 
To  those  two  sons  to  pass  and  let  them  be. 
And  Gawain  went,  and  breaking  into  song 
Sprang  out,  and  follow'd  by  his  flying  hair 
Ran  like  a  colt,  and  leapt  at  all  he  saw : 
2 


26  THE    COMIX G    OF   ARTHUR. 

But  Modred  laid  his  ear  beside  the  doors, 
And  there  half  heard ;  the  same  that  afterward 
Struck  for  the  throne,  and,  striking,  found  his  doom. 

And  then  the  Queen  made  answer,  "  What  know  I  ? 
For  dark  my  mother  was  in  eyes  and  hair, 
And  dark  in  hair  and  eyes  am  I ;  and  dark 
Was  Gorlois,  yea,  and  dark  was  Uther  too, 
Wellnigh  to  blackness,  but  this  king  is  fair 
Beyond  the  race  of  Britons  and  of  men. 
Moreover  always  in  my  mind  I  hear 
A  cry  from  out  the  dawning  of  my  life, 
A  mother  weeping,  and  I  hear  her  say, 
"  Oh  that  ye  had  some  brother,  pretty  one, 
To  guard  thee  on  the  rough  ways  of  the  world.'" 

"  Ay,"  said  the  King,  "  and  hear  ye  such  a  cry? 
But  when  did  Arthur  chance  upon  thee  first  ?  " 

"  O  king  ! "  she  cried,  "  and  I  will  tell  thee  true : 


THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR.  27 

He  found  me  first  when  yet  a  little  maid  — 

Beaten  I  had  been  for  a  little  fault 

Whereof  I  was  not  guilty  ;  and  out  I  ran 

And  flung  myself  down  on  a  bank  of  heath, 

And  hated  this  fair  world  and  all  therein, 

And  wept,  and  wish'd  that  I  were  dead  ;  and  he  — 

I  know  not  whether  of  himself  he  came, 

Or  brought  by  Merlin,  who,  they  say,  can  walk 

Unseen,  at  pleasure  —  he  was  at  my  side, 

And  spake  sweet  words,  and  comforted  my  heart, 

And  dried  my  tears,  being  a  child  with  me. 

And  many  a  time  he  came,  and  evermore, 

As  I  grew,  greater  grew  with  me  ;  and  sad 

At  times  he  seem'd,  and  sad  with  him  was  I, 

Stern  too  at  times,  and  then  I  loved  him  not, 

But  sweet  again,  and  then  I  loved  him  well. 

And  now  of  late  I  see  him  less  and  less, 

But  those  first  days  had  golden  hours  for  me, 

For  then  I  surely  thought  he  would  be  king. 


28  THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR. 

"  But  let  me  tell  thee  now  another  tale  : 
For  Bleys,  our  Merlin's  master,  as  they  say, 
Died  but  of  late,  and  sent  his  cry  to  me, 
To  hear  him  speak  before  he  left  his  life. 
Shrunk  like  a  fairy  changeling  lay  the  mage, 
And,  when  I  enter'd,  told  me  that  himself 
And  Merlin  ever  served  about  the  king, 
Uther,  before  he  died,  and  on  the  night 
When  Uther  in  Tintagil  past  away 
Moaning  and  wailing  for  an  heir,  the  two 
Left  the  still  king,  and  passing  forth  to  breathe, 
Then  from  the  castle  gateway  by  the  chasm 
Descending  thro'  the  dismal  night  —  a  night 
In  which  the  bounds  of  heaven  and  earth  were  lost  — • 
Beheld,  so  high  upon  the  dreary  deeps 
It  seem'd  in  heaven  —  a  ship,  the  shape  thereof 
A  dragon  wing'd,  and  all  from  stem  to  stern 
Bright  with  a  shining  people  on  the  decks, 
And  gone  as  soon  as  seen :  and  then  the  two 
Dropt  to  the  cove  and  watch'd  the  great  sea  fall, 


THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR.  29 

Wave  after  wave,  each  mightier  than  the  last, 

Till,  last,  a  ninth  one,  gathering  half  the  deep     t 

And  full  of  voices,  slowly  rose  and  plunged 

Roaring,  and  all  the  wave  was  in  a  flame  : 

And  down  the  wave  and  in  the  flame  was  borne 

A  naked  babe,  and  rode  to  Merlin's  feet, 

Who  stoop t  and  caught  the  babe,  and  cried,  '  The  King ! 

Here  is  an  heir  for  Uther ! '  and  the  fringe 

Of  that  great  breaker,  sweeping  up  the  strand, 

Lash'd  at  the  wizard  as  he  spake  the  word, 

And  all  at  once  all  round  him  rose  in  fire, 

So  that  the  child  and  he  were  clothed  in  fire. 

And  presently  thereafter  follow'd  calm, 

Free  sky  and  stars  :  '  And  this  same  child/  he  said, 

4  Is  he  who  reigns ;  nor  could  I  part  in  peace 

Till  this  were  told.'     And  saying  this  the  seer 

Went  thro*  the  strait  and  dreadful  pass  of  death, 

Not  ever  to  be  question'd  any  more 

Save  on  the  further  side  ;  but  when  I  met 

Merlin,  and  ask'd  him  if  these  things  were  truth,  — 


30  THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR. 

The  shining  dragon  and  the  naked  child 
Descending  in  the  glory  of  the  seas,  — 
He  laugh'd  as  is  his  wont,  and  answer'd  me 
In  riddling  triplets  of  old  time,  and  said : 
I 

" '  Rain,  rain,  and  sun !  a  rainbow  in  the  sky  ! 
A  young  man  will  be  wiser  by  and  by  : 
An  old  man's  wit  may  wander  ere  he  die. 

Rain,  rain,  and  sun  !  a  rainbow  on  the  lea ! 
And  truth  is  this  to  me,  and  that  to  thee ; 
And  truth  or  clothed  or  naked  let  it  be. 

Rain,  sun,  and  rain !  and  the  free  blossom  blows  : 
Sun,  rain,  and  sun  !  and  where  is  he  who  knows  ? 
From  the  great  deep  to  the  great  deep  he  goes.' 

"  So  Merlin,  riddling,  anger'd  me  ;  but  thou 
Fear  not  to  give  this  king  thine  only  child, 
Guinevere  :  so  great  bards  of  him  will  sing 
Hereafter,  and  dark  sayings  from  of  old 
Ranging  and  ringing  thro'  the  minds  of  men, 


THE    COMING    OF    ARTHUR.  31 

And  echo'd  by  old  folk  beside  their  fires 
For  comfort  after  their  wage-work  is  done, 
Speak  of  the  king ;  and  Merlin  in  our  time 
Hath  spoken  also,  not  in  jest,  and  sworn, 
Tho'  men  may  wound  him,  that  he  will  not  die, 
But  pass,  again  to  come  ;  and  then  or  now 
Utterly  smite  the  heathen  underfoot, 
Till  these  and  all  men  hail  him  for  their  king." 

She  spake  and  King  Leodogran  rejoiced, 
But  musing  "  Shall  I  answer  yea  or  nay  ?  " 
Doubted  and  drowsed,  nodded  and  slept,  and  saw, 
Dreaming,  a  slope  of  land  that  ever  grew, 
Field  after  field,  up  to  a  height,  the  peak 
Haze-hidden,  and  thereon  a  phantom  king, 
Now  looming,  and  now  lost ;  and  on  the  slope 
The  sword  rose,  the  hind  fell,  the  herd  was  driven, 
Fire  glimpsed  ;  and  all  the  land  from  roof  and  rick 
In  drifts  of  smoke  before  a  rolling  wind 
Strearn'd  to  the  peak,  and  mingled  with  the  haze 


32  THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR. 

And  made  it  thicker  ;  while  the  phantom  king 

Sent  out  at  times  a  voice ;  and  here  or  there 

Stood  one  who  pointed  toward  the  voice,  the  rest 

Slew  on  and  burnt,  crying,  "  No  king  of  ours, 

No  son  of  Uther,  and  no  king  of  ours  "  ; 

Till  with  a  wink  his  dream  was  changed,  the  haze 

Descended,  and  the  solid  earth  became 

As  nothing,  and  the  king  stood  out  in  heaven, 

Crown'd ;  and  Leodogran  awoke,  and  sent 

Ulfius,  and  Brastias,  and  Bedivere 

Back  to  the  court  of  Arthur  answering  yea. 

Then  Arthur  charged  his  warrior  whom  he  loved 
And  honor'd  most,  Sir  Lancelot,  to  ride  forth       \ 
And  bring   the    Queen ;  —  and  watch'd  him  irom  the 

gates : 

And  Lancelot  past  away  among  the  flowers, 
(For  then  was  latter  April)  and  returned 
Among  the  flowers,  in  May,  with  Guinevere. 
To  whom  arrived,  by  Dubric  the  high  saint, 


THE    COMING    OF 

^FX<%  V   V» 

Of  TUB 

Chief  of  the  church  in  Britain,  and  bfi^eJJ1  J  V  E  R  S  I  T 

The  stateliest  of  her  altar-shrines,  the  «fc!^4  f  -r^rvt 

^^ 
That  morn  was  married,  while  in  stainless  we 

The  fah*  beginners  of  a  nobler  time, 

And  glorying  in  their  vows  and  him,  his  knights 

Stood  round  him,  and  rejoicing  in  his  joy. 

And  holy  Dubric  spread  his  hands  and  spake, 

"  Reign  ye,  and  live  and  love,  and  make  the  world 

Other,  and  may  thy  Queen  be  one  with  thee, 

And  all  this  Order  of  thy  Table  Round 

Fulfil  the  boundless  pupose  of  their  king." 

Then  at  the  marriage  feast  came  in  from  Rome, 
The  slowly-fading  mistress  of  the  world, 
Great  lords,  who  claim'd  the  tribute  as  of  yore. 
But  Arthur  spake,  u  Behold,  for  these  have  sworn 
To  fight  my  wars,  and  worship  me  their  king ; 
The  old  order  changeth,  yielding  place  to  new ; 
And  we  that  fight  for  our  fair  father  Christ, 
Seeing  that  ye  be  grown  too  weak  and  old 


34  THE    COMING    OF   ARTHUR. 

To  drive  the  heathen  from  your  Roman  wall, 
No  tribute  will  we  pay  " :  so  those  great  lords 
Drew  back  in  wrath,  and  Arthur  strove  witli  Rome. 

And  Arthur  and  his  knighthood  for  a  space 
Were  all  one  will,  and  thro'  that  strength  the  king 
Drew  in  the  petty  princedoms  under  him, 
Fought,  and  in  twelve  great  battles  overcame 
The  heathen  hordes,  and  made  a  realm  and  reign'd. 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 


FROM  noiseful  arms,  and  acts  of  prowess  done 
In  tournament  or  tilt,  Sir  Percivale, 
Whom  Arthur  and  his  knighthood  call'd  The  Pure, 
Had  pass'd  into  the  silent  life  of  prayer, 
Praise,  fast,  and  alms  ;  and  leaving  for  the  cowl 
The  helmet  in  an  abbey  far  away 
From  Camelot,  there,  and  not  long  after,  died. 

And  one,  a  fellow-monk  among  the  rest, 
Ambrosius,  loved  him  much  beyond  the  rest, 

And  honor'd  him,  and  wrought  into  his  heart  . 

' 
A  way  by  love  that  waken'd  love  within, 

To  answer  that  which  came  :  and  as  they  sat 


38  THE   HOLY    GRAIL. 

Beneath  a  world-old  yew-tree,  darkening  half 
The  cloisters,  on  a  gustful  April  morn 
That  puff'd  the  swaying  branches  into  smoke 
Above  them,  ere  the  summer  when  he  died, 
The  monk  Ambrosius  questioned  Percivale  :  — 

"  0  brother,  I  have  seen  this  yew-tree  smoke, 
Spring  after  spring,  for  half  a  hundred  years : 
For  never  have  I  known  the  world  without, 
Nor  ever  strayed  beyond  the  pale :  but  thee, 
When  first  thou  earnest,  —  such  a  courtesy 
Spake  thro'  the  limbs  and  in  the  voice,  — I  knew 
For  one  of  those  who  eat  in  Arthur's  hall ; 
For  good  ye  are  and  bad,  and  like  to  coins, 
Some  true,  some  light,  but  every  one  of  you 
Stamp'd  with  the  image  of  the  king ;  and  now 
Tell  me,  what  drove  thee  from  the  Table  Round, 
My  brother  ?  was  it  earthly  passion  crost  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  said  the  knight ;  "  for  no  such  passion  mine. 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  39 

But  the  sweet  vision  of  the  Holy  Grail 

Drove  me  from  all  vainglories,  rivalries, 

And  earthly  heats  that  spring  and  sparkle  out 

Among  us  in  the  jousts,  while  women  watch 

Who  wins,  who  falls ;  and  waste  the  spiritual  strength 

Within  us,  better  offer'd  up  to  Heaven." 

To  whom  the  monk  :  "  The  Holy  Grail !  —  I  trust 
We  are  green  in  Heaven's  eyes  ;  but  here  too  much 
We  moulder,  —  as  to  things  without  I  mean,  — 
Yet  one  of  your  own  knights,  a  guest  of  ours, 
Told  us  of  this  in  our  refectory, 
But  spake  with  such  a  sadness  and  so  low 
We  heard  not  half  of  what  he  said.     What  is  it  ? 
The  phantom  of  a  cup  that  comes  and  goes  ?  " 

"  Nay,  monk !  what  phantom  ?  "  answer'd  Percivale. 
"  The  cup,  the  cup  itself,  from  which  our  Lord 
Drank  at  the  last  sad  supper  with  his  own. 
This,  from  the  blessed  land  of  Aromat  — 


40  THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 

After  the  day  of  darkness,  when  the  dead 
Went  wandering  o'er  Moriah,  the  good  saint, 
Arimathaean  Joseph,  journeying  brought 
To  Glastonbury,  where  the  winter  thorn 
Blossoms  at  Christmas,  mindful  of  our  Lord. 
And  there  awhile  it  bode  ;  and  if  a  man 
Could  touch  or  see  it,  he  was  heal'd  at  once, 
By  faith,  of  all  his  ills  ;  but  then  the  times 
Grew  to  such  evil  that  the  Holy  cup 
Was  caught  away  to  Heaven  and  disappear'd." 

To  whom  the  monk  :  "  From  our  old  books  I  know 
That  Joseph  came  of  old  to  Glastonbury, 
And  there  the  heathen  Prince,  Arviragus, 
Gave  him  an  isle  of  marsh  whereon  to  build 
And  there  he  built  with  wattles  from  the  marsh 
A  little  lonely  church  in  days  of  yore, 
For  so  they  say,  these  books  of  ours,  but  seem 
Mute  of  this  miracle,  far  as  I  have  read. 
But  who  first  saw  the  holy  thing  to-day  ?  " 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  41 

"  A  woman,"  answered  Percivale,  "  a  nun, 
And  one  no  further  off  in  blood  from  me 
Than  sister  ;  and  if  ever  holy  maid 
With  knees  of  adoration  wore  the  stone, 
A  holy  maid  ;  tho'  never  maiden  glow'd, 
But  that  was  in  her  earlier  maidenhood, 
With  such  a  fervent  flame  of  human  love, 
Which  being  rudely  blunted  glanced  and  shot 
Only  to  holy  things  :  to  prayer  and  praise 
She  gave  herself,  to  fast  and  alms  ;  and  yet, 
Nun  as  she  was,  the  scandal  of  the  Court, 
Sin  against  Arthur  and  the  Table  Round, 
And  the  strange  sound  of  an  adulterous  race 
Across  the  iron  grating  of  her  cell 
Beat,  and  she  pray'd  and  fasted  all  the  more. 

"  And  he  to  whom  she  told  her  sins,  or  what 
Her  all  but  utter  whiteness  held  for  sin, 
A  man  wellnigh  a  hundred  winters  old, 
Spake  often  with  her  of  the  Holy  Grail, 


42  THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 

A  legend  handed  down  thro'  five  or  six, 

And  each  of  these  a  hundred  winters  old, 

From  our  Lord's  time  :  and  when  King  Arthur  made 

His  table  round,  and  all  men's  hearts  became 

Clean  for  a  season,  surely  he  had  thought 

That  now  the  Holy  Grail  would  come  again  ; 

But  sin  broke  out.     Ah,  Christ,  that  it  would  come, 

K    I 

And  heal  the  world  of  all  their  wickedness ! 

6  O  Father  ! '  asked  the  maiden,  '  might  it  come    ' 
To  me  by  prayer  and  fasting  ?  '     '  Nay/  said  he, 
' 1  know  not,  for  thy  heart  is  pure  as  snow.' 
And  so  she  pray'd  and  fasted,  till  the  sun 
Shone,  and  the  wind  blew,  thro*  her,  and  I  thought 
She  might  have  risen  and  floated  when  I  saw  her. 

"  For  on  a  day  she  sent  to  speak  with  me. 
And  when  she  came  to  speak,  behold  her  eyes 
Beyond  my  knowing  of  them,  beautiful, 
Beyond  all  knowing  of  them,  wonderful, 
Beautiful  in  the  light  of  holiness. 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  43 

And  i  0  my  brother,  Percivale,'  she  said, 

<  Sweet  brother,  I  have  seen  the  Holy  Grail : 

For,  waked  at  dead  of  night,!  heard  a  sound 

As  of  a  silver  horn  from  o'er  the  hills 

Blown,  and  I  thought  it  is  not  Arthur's  use 

To  hunt  by  moonlight,  and  the  slender  sound 

As  from  a  distance  beyond  distance  grew 

Coming  upon  me,  —  O  never  harp  nor  horn, 

Nor  aught  we  blow  with  breath,  or  touch  with  hand, 

Was  like  that  music  as  it  came  ;  and  then 

Streamed  thro'  my  cell  a  cold  and  silver  beam, 

And  down  the  long  beam  stole  the  Holy  Grail, 

Rose-red  with  beatings  in  it,  as  if  alive, 

Till  all  the  white  walls  of  my  cell  were  dyed 

With  rosy  colors  leaping  on  the  wall ; 

And  then  the  music  faded,  and  the  Grail 

Passed,  and  the  beam  decay'd,  and  from  the  walls 

The  rosy  quiverings  died  into  the  night. 

So  now  the  Holy  Thing  is  here  again 

Among  us,  brother,  fast  thou  too  and  pray, 


44  THE   HOLY    GRAIL. 

And  tell  thy  brother  knights  to  fast  and  pray, 

That  so  perchance  the  vision  may  be  seen 

By  thee  and  those,  and  all  the  world  be  heal'd.' 


"  Then  leaving  the  pale  nun,  I  spake  of  this 
To  all  men  ;  and  myself  fasted  and  pray'd 
Always,  and  many  among  us  many  a  week 
Fasted  and  pray'd  even  to  the  uttermost, 
Expectant  of  the  wonder  that  would  be. 

"  And  one  there  was  among  us,  ever  moved 
Among  us  in  white  armor,  Galahad. 
'  God  make  thee  good  as  thou  art  beautiful/ 
Said  Arthur,  when  he  dubb'd  him  knight ;  and  none, 
In  so  young  youth,  was  ever  made  a  knight 
Till  Galahad ;  and  this  Galahad,  when  he  heard 
My  sister's  vision,  fill'd  me  with  amaze ; 
His  eyes  became  so  like  her  own,  they  seem'd 
Hers,  and  himself  her  brother  more  than  I. 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  45 

"  Sister  or  brother  none  had  he  ;  but  some 
Call'd  him  a  son  of  Lancelot,  and  some  said 
Begotten  by  enchantment,  —  chatterers,  they, 
Like  birds  of  passage  piping  up  and  down 
That  gape  for  flies,  —  we  know  not  whence  they  come ; 
For  when  was  Lancelot  wanderingly  lewd  ? 

"  But  she,  the  wan,  sweet  maiden  shore  away 
Clean  from  her  forehead  all  that  wealth  of  hair 
Which  made  a  silken  mat-work  for  her  feet ; 
And  out  of  this  she  plaited  broad  and  long 
A  strong  sword-belt,  and  wove  with  silver  thread 
And  crimson  in  the  belt  a  strange  device, 
A  crimson  grail  within  a  silver  beam  ; 
And  saw  the  bright  boy-knight,  and  bound  it  on  him 
Saying,  <  My  knight,  my  love,  my  knight  of  heaven. 
0  thou,  my  love,  whose  love  is  one  with  mine, 
I,  maiden,  round  thee,  maiden,  bind  my  belt. 
Go  forth,  for  thou  shalt  see  what  I  have  seen, 
And  break  thro1  all,  till  one  will  crown  thee  king 


46  THE   HOLY    GRAIL. 

Far  in  the  spiritual  city ' :  and  as  she  spake 
She  sent  the  deathless  passion  in  her  eyes 
Thro'  him,  and  made  him  hers,  and  laid  her  mind 
On  him,  and  he  believed  in  her  belief. 

•-  *~*k  * 

"  Then  came  a  year  of  miracle  :  O  brother, 
In  our  great  hall  there  stood  a  vacant  chair, 
Fashion'd  by  Merlin  ere  he  past  away, 
And  carven  with  strange  figures  ;  and  in  and  out 
The  figures,  like  a  serpent,  ran  a  scroll 
Of  letters  in  a  tongue  no  man  could  read. 
And  Merlin  call'd  it  '  The  Siege  perilous/ 
Perilous  for  good  and  ill ;    *  for  there,'  he  said, 
6  No  man  could  sit  but  he  should  lose  himself  : 
And  once  by  misadvertence  Merlin  sat 
In  his  own  chair,  and  so  was  lost ;  but  he, 
Galahad,  when  he  heard  of  Merlin's  doom, 
Cried,  '  If  I  lose  myself  I  save  myself ! ' 

"  Then  on  a  summer  night  it  came  to  pass, 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  47 

While  the  great  banquet  lay  along  the  hall, 
That  Galahad  would  sit  down  in  Merlin's  chair. 

"  And  all  at  once,  as  there  we  sat,  we  heard 
A  cracking  and  a  riving  of  the  roofs, 
And  rending,  and  a  blast,  and  overhead 
Thunder,  and  in  the  thunder  was  a  cry. 
And  in  the  blast  there  smote  along  the  hall 
A  beam  of  light  seven  times  more  clear  than  day  : 
A-ri  1r»wa  the  long  beam  stole  the  Holy  Grail 
All  over  cover'd  with  a  luminous  cloud, 
And  none  might  see  who  bare  it,  and  it  past. 
But  every  knight  beheld  his  fellow's  face 
As  in  a  glory,  and  all  the  knights  arose, 
And  staring  each  at  other  like  dumb  men 
Stood,  till  I  found  a  voice  and  sware  a  vow. 

"  I  sware  a  vow  before  them  all,  that  I 
Because  I  had  not  seen  the  Grail,  would  ride 
A  twelvemonth  and  a  day  in  quest  of  it, 


48  THE   HOLY    GRAIL. 

Until  I  found  and  saw  it,  as  the  nun 
My  sister  saw  it ;  and  Galahad  sware  the  vow. 
And  good  Sir  Bors,  our  Lancelot's  cousin,  sware, 
And  Lancelot  sware,  and  many  among  the  knights, 
And  Gawain  sware,  and  louder  than  the  rest. 

"  Then  spake  the  monk  Ambrosius,  asking  him, 
4  What  said  the  king  ?     Did  Arthur  take  the  vow  ? ' 

"    fay,  for,  ray  lord  rci  vale.)  the  king; 

Was  •      rly  that  same  day. 

'Scaped  thro'  a  cavern  from  a  bandit  hold, 
An  outraged  maiden  sprang  into  the  hall 
Crying  on  help  :  for  all  her  shining  hair 
Was  smear'd  with  earth,  and  either  milky  arm 
Red-rent  with  hooks  of  bramble,  and  all  she  wore 
Torn  as  a  sail,  that  leaves  the  rope,  is  torn 
In  tempest  :  so  the  king  arose  and  went 
To  smoke  the  scandalous  hive  of  those  wild  bees 
That  made  such  honey  in  his  realm  :  howbeit 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  49 

Some  little  of  this  marvel  he  too  saw, 
Returning  o'er  the  plain  that  then  began 
To  darken  under  Camelot ;  whence  the  king 
Look'd  up,  calling  aloud,  '  Lo  there  !  the  roofs 
Of  our  great  Hall  are  rolled  in  thunder-smoke  ! 
Pray  Heaven  they  be  not  smitten  by  the  bolt.' 
For  dear  to  Arthur  was  that  hall  of  ours, 
As  having  there  so  oft  with  all  his  knights 

Feasted,  and  as  the  costliest  under  heaven. 

• 

"  0  brother,  had  you  known  our  mighty  hall, 
.Which  Merlin  built  for  Arthur  long  ago ! 
For  all  the  sacred  mount  of  Camelot, 
And  all  the  dim  rich  city,  roof  by  roof, 
Tower  after  tower,  spire  beyond  spire, 
By  grove,  and  garden-lawn,  and  rushing  brook, 
Climbs  to  the  mighty  hall  that  Merlin  built. 
And  four  great  zones  of  sculpture,  set  betwixt 
With  many  a  mystic  symbol,  gird  the  hall : 
And  in  the  lowest  beasts  are  slaying  men, 

3  D 


50  THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 

And  in  the  second  men  are  slaying  beasts, 
And  on  the  third  are  warriors,  perfect  men, 
And  on  the  fourth  are  men  with  growing  wings, 
And  over  all  one  statue  in  the  mould 
Of  Arthur,  made  by  Merlin,  with  a  crown, 
And  peak'd  wings  pointed  to  the  Northern  Star. 
And  eastward  fronts  the  statue,  and  the  crown 
And  both  the  wings  are  made  of  gold,  and  flame 
At  sunrise  till  the  people  in  far  fields, 
Wasted  so  often  by  the  heathen  hordes, 
Behold  it,  crying,  *  We  have  still  a  king.' 

"  And,  brother,  had  you  known  our  hall  within, 
Broader  and  higher  than  any  in  all  the  lands ! 
Where  twelve  great  windows  blazon  Arthur's  wars, 
And  all  the  light  that  falls  upon  the  board 
Streams  thro'  the  twelve  great  battles  of  our  king. 
Nay,  one  there  is,  and  at  the  eastern  end, 
Wealthy  with  wandering  lines  of  mount  and  mere, 
Where  Arthur  finds  the  brand  Excalibur. 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  51 

And  also  one  to  the  west,  and  counter  to  it, 
And  blank :  and  who  shall  blazon  it  ?  when  and  how  ? 
O  then,  perchance,  when  all  our  wars  are  done, 
The  brand  Excalibur  will  be  cast  away. 


"  So  to  this  hall  full  quickly  rode  the  king, 
In  horror  lest  the  work  by  Merlin  wrought, 
Dreamlike,  should  on  the  sudden  vanish,  wrapt 
In  unremorsefal  folds  of  rolling  fire. 
And  in  he  rode,  and  up  I  glanced,  and  saw 
The  golden  dragon  sparkling  over  all : 
And  many  of  those  who  burnt  the  hold,  their  arms 
Hack'd,  and  their  foreheads  grimed  with  smoke,   and 

sear'd, 

Follow'd,  and  in  among  bright  faces,  ours 
Full  of  the  vision,  prest :  and  then  the  King 
Spake  to  me,  being  nearest,  l  Percivale,' 
(Because  the  Hall  was  all  in  tumult  —  some 
Vowing,  and  some  protesting),  i  what  is  this  ? ' 


52  THE    HOLY    GU AIL. 

••  O  brother,  \vhon  I  told  him  what  had  chanced, 
My  sister's  viMon,  :uul  the  rest,  his  face 
Parkon'd,  us  I  have' seen  it  more  than  once, 
AY  hen  some  brave  deed  seem'd  to  be  done  in  vain, 
Darken  ;  and  4  Woe  is  nu\  my  knights  ! '  he  eru-d, 
4  Had  I  been  hero,  ye  had  not  sworn  the  vow.' 
Bold  was  mine  answer,  *  Had  thyself  been  here, 
My    king,    thou    wonldst    have    sworn.'      'Yea,    yea/ 
said  he, 

*  Art  thou  so  bold  and  hast  not  seen  the  grail  ? ' 

" '  Nay,  Lord,  I  heard  the  sound,  I  saw  the  light, 
But  since  I  did  not  see  the  Holy  Thin;::, 
1  sware  a  vow  to  follow  it  till  1  saw.' 

••Then  when  he  asked  us,  knight  by  knight,  if  any 
Had  seen  it,  all  their  answers  wen   as  one, 

•  Nay,  Lord,  and  therefore  have  we  sworn  our  vows.' 

—  l.o  now,'  said  Arthur,  'have  ye  seen  a  cUnid  : 

What  go  ye  into  the  w i  Ide r n ess  to  see  ? ' 


-jin:  HOLY   C;KAIL.  53 

"  Then  Galahad  on  the  sudden,  and  in  a  voice 
Shrilling  along  the  hall  to  Arthur,  call'd, 
'  But  I,  Sir  Arthur,  saw  the  Holy  Grail, 
I  saw  the  Holy  Grail  and  heard  a  cry  — 
O  Galahad,  arid  O  Galahad,  follow  me/ 

" '  Ah,  Galahad,  Galahad/  said  the  King,  <  for  such 
As  thou  art  is  the  vision,  not  for  these. 
Thy  holy  nun  and  thou  have  seen  a  sign; 
Holier  is  none,  my  Percivale,  than  she,  — 
A  sign  to  maim  this  Order  which  I  made. 
I>ut  you,  that  follow  but  the  leader's  bell/ 
(Brother,  the  king  was  hard  upon  his  knights,) 
*  Taliessin  is  our  fullest  throat  of  song, 
And  one  hath  sung  and  all  the  dumb  will  sing. 
Lancelot  is  Lancelot,  and  hath  overborne 
Five  knights  at  once,  arid  every  younger  knight, 
Unproven,  holds  himself  as  Lancelot, 
Till,  overborne  by  one,  he  learns,  —  and  ye, 
AVhat  are  ye  ?     Galahads,  —  no,  nor  Percivales ' 


54  THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 

(For  thus  it  pleased  the  king  to  range  me  close 

After  Sir  Galahad)  ;  '  nay/  said  he,  '  but  men 

With  strength  and  will  to  right  the  wrong' d,  of  power 

To  lay  the  sudden  heads  of  violence  flat, 

Knights  that  in  twelve  great  battles  splash'd  and  dyed 

The  strong  White  Horse  in  his  own  heathen  blood,  — 

But  one  hath  seen,  and  all  the  blind  will  see. 

(Go,  since  your  vows  are  sacred,  being  made,  — 

Yet,  for  ye  know  the  cries  of  all  my  realm 
I 

Pass  thro'  this  hall,  how  often,  O  my  knights, 
Your  places  being  vacant  at  my  side, 
The  chance  of  noble  deeds  will  come  and  go 
Unchallenged,  while  you  follow  wandering  fires 
Lost  in  the  quagmire  :  many  of  you,  yea  most, 
Return  no  more  :  ye  think  I  show  myself 
Too  dark  a  prophet :  come  now,  let  us  meet 
The  morrow  morn  once  more  in  one  full  field 
Of  gracious  pastime,  that  once  more  the  king, 
Before  you  leave  him  for  this  quest,  may  count 
The  yet  unbroken  strength  of  all  his  knights, 
Rejoicing  in  that  Order  which  he  made.' 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  55 

"  So  when  the  sun  broke  next  from  underground, 
All  the  great  table  of  our  Arthur  closed 
And  clash'd  in  such  a  tourney  and  so  full, 
So  many  lances  broken,  —  never  yet 
Had  Camelot  seen  the  like  since  Arthur  came. 
And  I  myself  and  Galahad,  for  a  strength 
Was  in  us  from  the  vision,  overthrew 
So  many  knights  that  all  the  people  cried, 
And  almost  burst  the  barriers  in  their  heat, 
Shouting  i  Sir  Galahad  and  Sir  Percivale  ! ' 

"  But  when  the  next  day  brake  from  underground,  — 
O  brother,  had  you  known  our  Camelot, 
Built  by  old  kings,  age  after  age,  so  old 
The  king  himself  had  fears  that  it  would  fall, 
So.  strange  and  rich,  and  dim ;  for  where  the  roofs 
-Totter'd  toward  each  other  in  the  sky 
Met  foreheads  all  along  the  street  of  those 
Who  watch'd  us  pass ;  and  lower,  and  where  the  long 
Rich  galleries,  lady-laden,  weigh'd  the  necks 


56  THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 

Of  dragons  clinging  to  the  crazy  walls, 

Thicker  than  drops  from  thunder  showers  of  flowers 

Fell,  as  we  past  ;  and  men  and  boys  astride 

On  wyvern,  lion,  dragon,  griffin,  swan, 

At  all  the  corners,  named  us  each  by  name, 

Calling  <  God  speed ! '  but  in  the  street  below 

The  knights  and  ladies  wept,  and  rich  and  poor 

Wept,  and  the  king  himself  could  hardly  speak 

For  sorrow,  and  in  the  middle  street  the  queen, 

Who  rode  by  Lancelot,  wail'd  and  shriek'd  aloud, 

*  This  madness  has  come  on  us  for  our  sins.' 

And  then  we  reach'd  the  weirdly  sculptured  gate, 

Where  Arthur's  wars  were  render'd  mystically, 

And  thence  departed  every  one  his  way. 

"  And  I  was  lifted  up  in  heart,  and  thought 
Of  all  my  late-shown  prowess  in  the  lists, 
How  my  strong  lance  had  beaten  down  the  knights, 
So  many  and  famous  names  ;  and  never  yet 
Had  heaven  appear'd  so  blue,  nor  earth  so  green, 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  57 

For  all  my  blood  danced  in  me,  and  I  knew 
That  I  should  light  upon  the  Holy  Grail. 

"  Thereafter,  the  dark  warning  of  our  king, 
That  most  of  us  would  follow  wandering  fires, 
Came  like  a  driving  gloom  across  my  mind. 
Then  every  evil  word  I  had  spoken  once, 
And  every  evil  thought  I  had  thought  of  old, 
And  every  evil  deed  I  ever  did, 
Awoke  and  cried,  <  This  quest  is  not  for  thee.' 
And  lifting  up  mine  eyes,  I  found  myself 
Alone,  and  in  a  land  of  sand  and  thorns, 
And  I  was  thirsty  even  unto  death ; 
And  I,  too,  cried,  <  This  quest  is  not  for  thee.' 

"  And  on  I  rode,  and  when  I  thought  my  thirst 
Would  slay  me,  saw  deep  lawns,  and  then  a  brook, 
With  one  sharp  rapid,  where  the  crisping  white 
Play'd  ever  back  upon  the  sloping  wave, 
And  took  both  ear  and  eye  ;  and  o'er  the  brook 
3* 


58  THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 

Were  apple-trees,  and  apples  by  the  brook 
Fallen,  and  on  the  lawns,  *  I  will  rest  here/ 
I  said,  '  I  am  not  worthy  of  the  quest ' ; 
But  even  while  I  drank  the  brook,  and  ate 
The  goodly  apples,  all  these  things  at  once 
Fell  into  dust,  and  I  was  left  alone, 
And  thirsting,  in  a  land  of  sand  and  thorns. 

"  And  then  behold  a  woman  at  a  door 
Spinning,  and  fair  the  house  whereby  she  sat ; 
And  kind  the  woman's  eyes  and  innocent, 
And  all  her  bearing  gracious ;  and  she  rose 
Opening  her  arms  to  meet  me,  as  who  should  say, 
'  Rest  here,'  but  when  I  touched  her,  lo !  she  too 
Fell  into  dust  and  nothing,  and  the  house 
Became  no  better  than  a  broken  shed, 
And  in  it  a  dead  babe ;  and  also  this 
Fell  into  dust,  and  I  was  left  alone. 

"  And  on  I  rode,  and  greater  was  my  thirst. 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  59 

Then  flash'd  a  yellow  gleam  across  the  world, 
And  where  it  smote  the  ploughshare  in  the  field, 
The  ploughman  left  his  ploughing,  and  fell  down 
Before  it ;  where  it  glitter'd  on  her  pail, 
The  milkmaid  left  her  milking,  and  fell  down 
Before  it,  and  I  knew  not  why  ;  but  thought 
'  The  sun  is  rising,'  tho'  the  sun  had  risen. 
Then  was  I  ware  of  one  that  on  me  moved 
In  golden  armor,  with  a  crown  of  gold 
About  a  casque  all  jewels ;  and  his  horse 
In  golden  armor  jewell'd  everywhere : 
And  on  the  splendor  came,  flashing  me  blind  ; 
And  seem'd  to  me  the  Lord  of  all  the  world, 
Being  so  huge  :  but  when  I  thought  he  meant 
To  crush  me,  moving  on  me,  lo !  he  too 
Opened  his  arms  to  embrace  me  as  he  came, 
And  up  I  went  and  touch'd  him,  and  he  too 
Fell  into  dust,  and  I  was  left  alone 
And  wearied  in  a  land  of  sand  and  thorns. 


60  THE    HOLY   GRAIL. 

"  And  on  I  rode  and  found  a  mighty  hill, 
And  on  the  top  a  city  wall'd  :  the  spires 
Prick'd  with  incredible  pinnacles  into  heaven. 
And  by  the  gateway  stirr'd  a  crowd  ;  and  these 
Cried  to  me,  climbing,  '  Welcome,  Percivale  ! 
Thou  mightiest  and  thou  purest  among  men  ! ' 
And  glad  was  I  and  clomb,  but  found  at  top 
No  man,  nor  any  voice ;  and  thence  I  past 
Far  thro'  a  ruinous  city,  and  I  saw 
That  man  had  once  dwelt  there ;  but  there  I  found 
Only  one  man  of  an  exceeding  age. 
<  Where  is  that  goodly  company,'  said  I, 
'  That  so  cried  upon  me  ?  '  and  he  had 
Scarce  any  voice  to  answer,  and  yet  gasp'd 
'  Whence  and  what  art  thou  ?  '  and  even  as  he  spoke 
Fell  into  dust,  and  disappear'd,  and  I 
Was  left  alone  once  more,  and  cried,  in  grief, 
4  Lo,  if  I  find  the  Holy  Grail  itself, 
And  touch  it,  it  will  crumble  into  dust5 


THE   HOLY 

"  And  thence  I  dropt  into  a  lo 
Low  as  the  hill  was  high,  and  wh< 
Was  lowest  found  a  chapel,  and  thereby 
A  holy  hermit  in  a  hermitage, 
To  whom  I  told  my  phantoms,  and  he  said : 

"  '  O  son,  thou  hast  not  true  humility, 
The  highest  virtue,  mother  of  them  all ; 
For  when  the  Lord  of  all  things  made  Himself 
Naked  of  glory  for  His  mortal  change, 
"  Take  thou  my  robe,"  she  said,  "  for  all  is  thine," 
And  all  her  form  shone  forth  with  sudden  light 
So  that  the  angels  were  amazed,  and  she 
Followed  him  down,  and  like  a  flying  star 
Led  on  the  gray-hair'd  wisdom  of  the  East ; 
But  her  thou  hast  not  known  :  for  what  is  this 
Thou  thoughtest  of  thy  prowess  and  thy  sins  ? 
Thou  hast  not  lost  thyself  to  save  thyself 
As  Galahad.'     As  the  hermit  made  an  end, 
In  silver  armor  suddenly  Galahad  shone 


62  THE   HOLT   GRAIL. 

Before  us,  and  against  the  chapel  door 

Laid  lance,  and  entered,  and  we  knelt  in  prayer. 

And  there  the  hermit  slaked  my  burning  thirst ; 

And  at  the  sacring  of  the  mass  I  saw 

The  holy  elements  alone  ;  but  he 

<  Saw  ye  no  more  ?     I,  Galahad,  saw  the  Grail, 

The  Holy  Grail,  descend  upon  the  shrine  : 

I  saw  the  fiery  face  as  of  a  child 

That  smote  itself  into  the  bread,  and  went, 

And  hither  am  I  come  ;  and  never  yet 

Hath  what  thy  sister  taught  me  first  to  see, 

This  holy  thing,  fail'd  from  my  side,  nor  come 

Cover'd,  but  moving  with  me  night  and  day, 

Fainter  by  day,  but  always  in  the  night 

Blood-red,  and  sliding  down  the  blacken'd  marsh 

Blood-red,  and  on  the  naked  mountain  top 

Blood-red,  and  in  the  sleeping  mere  below 

Blood-red :  and  in  the  strength  of  this  I  rode 

Shattering  all  evil  customs  everywhere, 

And  past  thro'  Pagan  realms,  and  made  them  mine, 


THE   HOLY   GRAIL.  63 

And  clash'd  with  Pagan  hordes,  and  bore  them  down, 
And  broke  thro'  all,  and  in  the  strength  of  this 
Come  victor  :  but  my  time  is  hard  at  hand, 
And  hence  I  go  ;  and  one  will  crown  me  king 
Far  in  the  spiritual  city ;  and  come  thou  too, 
For  thou  shalt  see  the  vision  when  I  go.' 

* 

"  While  thus  he  spake,  his  eye,  dwelling  on  mine, 
Drew  me,  with  power  upon  me,  till  I  grew 
One  with  him,  to  believe  as  he  believed. 
Then  when  the  day  began  to  wane  we  went. 

"  Then  rose  a  hill  that  none  but  man  could  climb, 
Scarr'd  with  a  hundred  wintry  watercourses,  — 
Storm  at  the  top,  and,  when  we  gain'd  it,  storm 
Round  us  and  death ;  for  every  moment  glanced 
His  silver  arms  and  gloom'd  :  so  quick  and  thick 
The  lightnings  here  and  there  to  left  and  right 
Struck,  till  the  dry  old  trunks  about  us,  dead, 
Yea,  rotten  with  a  hundred  years  of  death, 


64  THE    HOLY   GRAIL. 

Sprang  into  fire  ;  and  at  the  base  we  found 

On  either  hand,  as  far  as  eye  could  see, 

A  great  black  swamp  and  of  an  evil  smell, 

Part  black,  part  whiten'd  with  the  bones  of  men, 

Not  to  be  crost  save  that  some  ancient  king 

Had  built  a  way,  where,  linked  with  many  a  bridge, 

A  thousand  piers  ran  into  the  Great  Sea. 

And  Galahad  fled  along  them  bridge  by  bridge, 

And  every  bridge  as  quickly  as  he  crost 

Sprang  into  fire  and  vanished,  tho'  I  yearn'd 

To  follow ;  and  thrice  above  him  all  the  heavens 

Open'd  and  blazed  with  thunder  such  as  seem'd 

Shoutings  of  all  the  sons  of  God :  and  first 

At  once  I  saw  him  far  on  the  great  sea, 

In  silver-shining  armor  starry-clear  ; 

And  o'er  his  head  the  holy  vessel  hung 

Clothed  in  white  samite  or  a  luminous  cloud. 

And  with  exceeding  swiftness  ran  the  boat, 

If  boat  it  were,  —  I  saw  not  whence  it  came. 

And  when  the  heavens  open'd  and  blazed  again 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  65 

Roaring,  I  saw  him  like  a  silver  star,  — 

And  had  he  set  the  sail,  or  had  the  boat 

Become  a  living  creature  clad  with  wings  ? 

And  o'er  his  head  the  holy  vessel  hung 

Redder  than  any  rose,  a  joy  to  me, 

For  now  I  knew  the  veil  had  been  withdrawn. 

Then  in  a  moment  when  they  blazed  again 

Opening,  I  saw  the  least  of  little  stars 

Down  on  the  waste,  and  straight  beyond  the  star 

I  saw  the  spiritual  city  and  all  her  spires 

And  gateways  in  a  glory  like  one  pearl, 

No  larger,  tho'  the  goal  of  all  the  saints, 

Strike  from  the  sea ;  and  from  the  star  there  shot 

A  rose-red  sparkle  to  the  city,  and  there 

Dwelt,  and  I  knew  it  was  the  Holy  Grail, 

"Which  never  eyes  on  earth  again  shall  see. 

Then  fell  the  floods  of  heaven  drowning  the  world. 

And  how  my  feet  recross'd  the  deathful  ridge 

No  memory  in  me  lives  ;  but  that  I  touch'd 

The  chapel-doors  at  dawn,  I  know ;  and  thence 


G6  THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 

Taking  my  war-horse  from  the  holy  man, 
Glad  that  no  phantom  vext  me  more,  returned 
To  whence  I  came,  the  gate  of  Arthur's  wars." 

"  O  brother,"  ask'd  Ambrosias,  "  for  in  sooth 
These    ancient  books  —  and  they  would  win  thec  • 

teem, 

Only  I  find  not  there  this  Holy  Grail, 
With  miracles  and  marvels  like  to  these, 
Not  all  unlike ;  which  oftentime  I  read, 
Who  read  but  on  my  breviary  with  ease, 
Till  my  head  swims  ;  and  then  go  forth  and  pass 
Down  to  the  little  thorpe  that  lies  so  close, 
And  almost  plaster'd  like  a  martin's  nest 
To  these  old  walls,  —  and  mingle  with  our  folk  • 
And  knowing  every  honest  face  of  theirs, 
As  well  as  ever  shepherd  knew  his  sheep, 
And  every  homely  secret  in  their  hearts, 
Delight  myself  with  gossip  and  old  wives, 
And  ills  and  aches,  and  teethings,  lyings-in, 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  67 

And  mirthful  sayings,  children  of  the  place. 
That  have  no  meaning  half  a  league  away : 
Or  lulling  random  squabbles  when  they  rise, 
ChafTerings  and  chatterings  at  the  market-cross, 
Rejoice,  small  man,  in  this  small  world  of  mine, 
Yea,  even  in  their  hens  and  in  their  eggs : 
O  brother,  saving  this  Sir  Galahad 
Came  ye  on  none  but  phantoms  in  your  quest, 
No  man,  no  woman  ?  " 

Then,  Sir  Percivale : 

"  All  men  to  one  so  bound  by  such  a  vow 
And  women  were  as  phantoms.     O  my  brother, 
Why  wilt  thou  shame  me  to  confess  to  thee 
How  far  I  falter'd  from  my  quest  and  vow  ? 
For  after  I  had  lain  so  many  nights 
A  bedmate  of  the  snail  and  eft  and  snake, 
In  grass  and  burdock,  I  was  changed  to  wan 
And  meagre,  and  the  vision  had  not  come. 
And  then  I  chanced  upon  a  goodly  town 


68  THE   HOLT    GRAIL. 

With  one  great  dwelling  in  the  middle  of  it ; 
Whither  I  made,  and  there  was  I  disarmed 
By  maidens  each  as  fair  as  any  flower : 
But  when  they  led  me  into  hall,  behold 
The  Princess  of  that  castle  was  the  one, 
Brother,  and  that  one  only,  who  had  ever 
Made  my  heart  leap  ;  for  when  I  moved  of  old 
A  slender  page  about  her  father's  hall, 
And  she  a  slender  maiden,  all  my  heart 
Went  after  her  with  longing  :  yet  we  twain 
Had  never  kiss'd  a  kiss,  or  vow'd  a  vow. 
And  now  I  came  upon  her  once  again, 
And  one  had  wedded  her,  and  he  was  dead, 
And  all  his  land  and  wealth  and  state  were  hers. 
And  while  I  tarried,  every  day  she  set 
A  banquet  richer  than  the  day  before 
By  me ;  for  all  her  longing  and  her  will 
Was  toward  me  as  of  old  ;  till  one  fair  morn, 
I  walking  to  and  fro  beside  a  stream 
That  flash'd  across  her  orchard  underneath 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  69 

Her  castle  walls,  she  stole  upon  my  walk, 

And  calling  me  the  greatest  of  all  knights, 

Embraced  me,  and  so  kiss'd  me  the  first  time, 

And  gave  herself  and  all  her  wealth  to  me. 

Then  I  remember'd  Arthur's  warning  word, 

That  most  of  us  would  follow  wandering  fires, 

And  the  quest  faded  in  my  heart.     Anon, 

The  heads  of  all  her  people  drew  to  me, 

With  supplication  both  of  knees  and  tongue. 

*  We    have    heard    of   thee :    thou    art    our    greatest 

knight : 

Our  Lady  says  it,  and  we  well  believe : 
Wed  thou  our  Lady,  and  rule  over  us, 
And  thou  shalt  be  as  Arthur  in  our  land.' 
O  me,  my  brother  !  but  one  night  my  vow 
Burnt  me  within,  so  that  I  rose  and  fled, 
But  wail'd  and  wept,  and  hated  mine  own  self, 
And  ev'n  the  Holy  Quest,  and  all  but  her. 
Then  after  I  was  join'd  with  Galahad 
Cared  not  for  her,  nor  anything  upon  earth." 


70  THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 

Then  said  the  monk,  "  Poor  men,  when  yule  is  cold, 
Must  be  content  to  sit  by  little  fires. 
And  this  am  I,  so  that  ye  care  for  me 
Ever  so  little ;  yea,  and  blest  be  Heaven 
That  brought  thee  here  to  this  poor  house  of  ours, 
Where  all  the  brethren  are  so  hard,  to  warm 
My  cold  heart  with  a  friend :  but  O  the  pity 
To  find  thine  own  first  love  once  more,  —  to  hold, 
Hold  her  a  wealthy  bride  within  thine  arms. 
Or  all  but  hold,  and  then  —  cast  her  aside, 
Foregoing  all  her  sweetness,  like  a  weed. 
For  we  that  want  the  warmth  of  double  life, 
We  that  are  plagued  with  dreams  of  something  sweet 
Beyond  all  sweetness  in  a  life  so  rich,  — 
Ah,  blessed  Lord,  I  speak  too  earthly-wise, 
Seeing  I  never  stray'd  beyond  the  cell, 
But  live  like  an  old  badger  in  his  earth, 
With  earth  about  him  everywhere,  despite 
All  fast  and  penance.     Saw  ye  none  beside, 
None  of  your  knights  ?  " 


THE    HOLY    GKAIL.  71 

"  Yea  so,"  said  Percivale, 
"  One  night  my  pathway  swerving  east,  I  saw 
The  pelican  on  the  casque  of  our  Sir  Bors 
All  in  the  middle  of  the  rising  moon : 
And  toward  him  spurr'd  and  haiPd  him,  and  he  me, 
And  each  made  joy  of  either  ;  then  he  ask'd, 
*  Where    is   he  ?    hast   thou    seen   him  —  Lancelot  ?  ' 

*  Once/ 

Said  good  Sir  Bors,  '  he  dashM  across  me  —  mad, 
And  maddening  what  he  rode ;  and  when  I  cried, 
"Ridest  thou  then  so  hotly  on  a  quest 
So  holy  ?" Lancelot  shouted,  "Stay  me  not ! 
I  have  been  the  sluggard  and  I  ride  apace, 
For  now  there  is  a  lion  in  the  way." 
So  vanish'd.' 

"  Then  Sir  Bors  had  ridden  on 
Softly  and  sorrowing  for  our  Lancelot. 
Because  his  former  madness,  once  the  talk 
And  scandal  of  our  table,  had  returned  ; 


72  THE   HOLT    GRAIL. 

For  Lancelot's  kith  and  kin  adore  him  so 
That  ill  to  him  is  ill  to  them ;  to  Bors 
Beyond  the  rest :  he  well  had  been  content 
Not  to  have  seen,  so  Lancelot  might  have  seen, 
The  holy  cup  of  healing ;  and,  indeed, 
Being  so  clouded  with  his  grief  and  love, 
Small  heart  was  his  after  the  holy  quest : 
If  God  would  send  the  vision,  well :  if  not, 
The  Quest  and  he  were  in  the  hands  of  Heaven. 

"  And  then,  with  small  adventure  met,  Sir  Bors 
Down  to  the  last  tongue-tip  of  Lyonesse  rode, 
And  found  a  people  there  among  their  crags, 
Our  race  and  blood,  a  remnant  that  were  left 
Paynim  amid  their  circles,  and  the  stones 
They  pitch  up  straight  to  heaven  :  and  their  wise  men 
Were  strong  in  that  old  magic  which  can  trace 

The  wandering  of  the  stars,  and  scoff  d  at  him, 

***. 
And  this  high  quest  as  at  a  simple  thing : 

Told  him  he  follow'd —  almost  Arthur's  words  — 


THE   HOLY    GKAIL.  73 

A  mocking  fire  :  *  what  other  fire  than  he, 
Whereby  the  blood  beats,  and  the  blossom  blows, 
And  the  sea  rolls,  and  all  the  world  is  warm'd  ? ' 
And  when  his  answer  chafed  them,  the  rough  crowd, 
Hearing  he  had  a  difference  with  their  priests, 
Seized  him,  and  bound  and  plunged  him  into  a  cell 
Of  great  piled  stones  ;  and  lying  bounden  there 

In  darkness  thro*  innumerable  hours 

'*,-' 
He  heard  the  hollow-ringing  heavens  sweep 

Over  him,  till  by  miracle  —  what  else  ?  — 
Heavy  as  it  was,  a  great  stone  slipt  and  fell, 
Such  as  no  wind  could  move :  and  thro'  the  gap 
GlimmerM  the  streaming  scud :  then  came  a  night 
Still  as  the  day  was  loud ;  and  thro'  the  gap 
The  seven  clear  stars  of  Arthur's  Table  Round,  — 
For,  brother,  so  one  night,  because  they  roll 
Thro'  such  a  round  in  heaven,  we  named  the  stars, 
Rejoicing  in  ourselves  and  in  our  king,  — 

And  these  like  bright  eyes  of  familial-  friends 

. 

In  on  him  shone,  6  And  then  to  me,  to  me,' 

4 


74  THE    HOLY    GRAIL. 

Said  good  Sir  Bors,  '  beyond  all  hopes  of  mine, 
Who  scarce  had  pray'd  or  ask'd  it  for  myself,  — 
Across  the  seven  clear  stars,  —  O  grace  to  me  !  — 
In  color  like  the  fingers  of  a  hand 
Before  a  burning  taper,  the  sweet  Grail 
Glided  and  past,  and  close  upon  it  peal'd 
A  sharp  quick  thunder':  afterwards  a  maid 
Who  kept  our  holy  faith  among  her  kin 
In  secret,  entering,  loosed  and  let  him  go." 

To  whom  the  monk  :  "  And  I  remember  now 
That  pelican  on  the  casque  :  Sir  Bors  it  was 
Who  spake  so  low  and  sadly  at  our  board ; 
And  mighty  reverent  at  our  grace  was  he : 
A  square-set  man  and  honest ;  and  his  eyes, 
An  out-door  sign  of  all  the  warmth  within, 
Smiled  with  his  lips,  —  a  smile  beneath  a  cloud, 
But  Heaven  had  meant  it  for  a  sunny  one : 
Ay,  ay,  Sir  Bors,  who  else  ?  but  when  ye  reach'd 
The  city,  found  ye  all  your  knights  return'd, 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  75 

Or  was  there  sooth  in  Arthur's  prophecy? 

Tell  me,  and  what  said  each,  and  what  the  king." 

Then  answer'd  Percivale,  u  And  that  can  I, 
Brother,  and  truly  ;  since  the  living  words 
Of  so  great  men  as  Lancelot  and  our  king 
Pass  not  from  door  to  door  and  out  again, 
But  sit  within  the  house.     O,  when  we  reach'd 
The  city,  our  horses  stumbling  as  they  trode 
On  heaps  of  ruin,  hornless  unicorns, 
Crack'd  basilisks,  and  splintered  cockatrices, 
And  shatter'd  talbots,  which  had  left  the  stones 
Eaw,  that  they  fell  from,  brought  us  to  the  hall. 

"  And  there  sat  Arthur  on  the  dais-throne, 
And  those  that  had  gone  out  upon  the  Quest,  — 
Wasted  and  worn,  and  but  a  tithe  of  them,  — 
And  those  that  had  not,  stood  before  the  king. 
Who,  when  he  saw  me,  rose,  and  bade  me  hail, 
Saying,  '  A  welfare  in  thine  eye  reproves 


76  THE   HOLY    GRAIL. 

Our  fear  of  some  disastrous  chance  for  thee 

On  hill,  or  plain,  at  sea,  or  flooding  ford. 

So  fierce  a  gale  made  havoc  here  of  late 

Among  the  strange  devices  of  our  kings ; 

Yea,  shook  this  newer,  stronger  hall  of  ours, 

And  from  the  statue  Merlin  moulded  for  us 

Half  wrench'd  a  golden  wing  ;  but  now  —  the  quest, 

This  vision  —  hast  thou  seen  the  holy  cup, 

That  Joseph  brought  of  old  to  Glastonbury  ? ' 

"  So  when  I  told  him  all  thyself  hast  heard, 
Ambrosius,  and  my  fresh  but  fixt  resolve 
To  pass  away  into  the  quiet  life, 
He  answered  not,  but,  sharply  turning,  ask'd 
Of  Gawain,  '  Gawain,  was  this  quest  for  thee  ? 

" c  Nay,  lord,'  said  Gawain,  (  not  for  such  as  I. 
ThereTore  I  communed  with  a  saintly  man, 
Who  made  me  sure  the  quest  was  not  for  me. 
For  I  was  much  awearied  of  the  quest. 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  77 

But  found  a  silk  pavilion  in  a  field, 

And  merry  maidens  in  it ;  and  then  this  gale 

Tore  my  pavilion  from  the  tenting-pin, 

And  blew  my  merry  maidens  all  about 

With  all  discomfort ;  yea,  and  but  for  this 

My  twelvemonth  and  a  day  were  pleasant  to  me.' 

"  He  ceased  ;  and  Arthur  turn'd  to  whom  at  first 
He  saw  not,  for  Sir  Bors,  on  entering,  push'd 
Athwart  the  throng  to  Lancelot,  caught  his  hand, 
Held  it,  and  there,  half  hidden  by  him,  stood, 
Until  the  king  espied  him,  saying  to  him, 
'  Hail,  Bors  !  if  ever  loyal  man  and  true 
Could  see  it,  theu  hast  seen  the  Grail/  and  Bors, 
'  Ask  me  not,  for  I  may  not  speak  of  it, 
I  saw  it ' :  and  the  tears  were  in  his  eyes. 

"  Then  there  remained  but  Lancelot,  for  the  rest 
Spake  but  of  sundry  perils  in  the  storm, 
Perhaps,  like  him  of  Cana  in  Holy  Writ, 


78  THE    HOLT    GRAIL. 

Our  Arthur  kept  his  best  until  the  last. 

6  Thou,  too,  my  Lancelot/  ask'd  the  King,  '  my  friend, 

Our  mightiest,  hath  this  quest  avaiPd  for  thee  ? ' 

"  <  Our  mightiest ! '  answer'd  Lancelot,  with  a  groan, 
6  O  king ! '  and  when  he  paused,  methought  I  spied 
A  dying  fire  of  madness  in  his  eyes, 
'  O  king,  my  friend,  if  friend  of  thine  I  be, 
Happier  are  those  that  welter  in  their  sin, 
Swine  in  the  mud,  that  cannot  see  for  slime, 
Slime  of  the  ditch  ;  — but  in  me  lived  a  sin 
So  strange,  of  such  a  kind,  that  all  of  pure, 
Noble,  and  knightly  in  me  twined  and  clung 
Round  that  one  sin,  until  the  wholesome  flower 
And  poisonous  grew  together,  each  as  each, 
Not  to  be  pluck'd  asunder ;  and  when  thy  knights 
Sware,  I  sware  with  them  only  in  the  hope 
That  could  I  touch  or  see  the  Holy  Grail 
They  might  be  pluck'd  asunder :  then  I  spake 
To  one  most  holy  saint,  who  wept  and  said 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  79 

That  save  they  could  be  pluck'd  asunder  all 
My  quest  were  but  in  vain  ;  to  whom  I  vow'd 
That  I  would  work  according  as  he  will'd. 
And  forth  I  went,  and  while  I  yearn'd  and  strove 

^  To  tear  the  twain  asunder  in  rny  heart, 
My  madness  came  upon  me  as  of  old 
And  whipt  me  into  waste  fields  far  away. 
There  was  I  beaten  down  by  little  men. 
Mean  knights,  to  whom  the  moving  of  my  sword 
And  shadow  of  my  spear  had  been  enow 
To  scare  them  from  me  once  ;  and  then  I  came 
All  in  my  folly  to  the  naked  shore, 
Wide  flats  where  nothing  but  coarse  grasses  grew, 
But  such  a  blast,  my  king,  began  to  blow, 
So  loud  a  blast  along  the  shore  and  sea, 
Ye  could  not  hear  the  waters  for  the  blast, 
Tho'  heapt  in  mounds  and  ridges  all  the  sea 
Drove  like  a  cataract,  and  all  the  sand 
Swept  like  a  river,  and  the  clouded  heavens 

,   Were  shaken  with  the  motion  and  the  sound. 


80  THE   HOLY    GRAIL. 

And  blackening  in  the  sea-foam  sway'd  a  boat 

Half-swallow'd  in  it,  anchored  with  a  chain  ; 

And  in  my  madness  to  myself  I  said, 

u  I  will  embark  and  I  will  lose  myself, 

And  in  the  great  sea  wash  away  my  sin." 

I  burst  the  chain,  I  sprang  into  the  boat. 

Seven  days  I  drove  along  the  dreary  deep, 

And  with  me  drove  the  moon  and  all  the  stars ; 

And  the  wind  fell,  and  on  the  seventh  night 

I  heard  the  shingle  grinding  in  the  surge, 

And  felt  the  boat  shock  earth,  and  looking  up 

Behold  the  enchanted  towers  of  Carbonek. 

A  castle  like  a  rock  upon  a  rock, 

With  chasm-like  portals  open  to  the  sea, 

And  steps  that  met  the  breaker  :  there  was  none 

Stood  near  it  but  a  lion  on  each  side, 

That  kept  the  entry,  and  the  moon  was  full. 

Then  from  the  boat  I  leapt,  and  up  the  stairs. 

There  drew  my  sword.     With  sudden-flaring  manes 

Those  two  great  beasts  rose  upright  like  a  man, 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.*  81 

Each  gript  a  shoulder,  and  I  stood  between, 

And,  when  I  would  have  smitten  them,  heard  a  voice, 

"  Doubt  not,  go  forward  ;  if  thou  doubt,  the  beasts 

Will  tear  thee  piecemeal "  ;  then  with  violence 

The  sword  was  dash'd  from  out  my  hand  and  fell. 

And  up  into  the  sounding  hall  I  past 

But  nothing  in  the  sounding  hall  I  saw, 

No  bench  nor  table,  painting  on  the  wall, 

Or  shield  of  knight ;  only  the  rounded  moon 

Thro'  the  tall  oriel  on  the  rolling  sea. 

But  always  in  the  quiet  house  I  heard, 

Clear  as  a  lark,  high  o'er  me  as  a  lark, 

A  sweet  voice  singing  in  the  topmost  tower 

To  the  eastward  :  up  I  climb'd  a  thousand  steps 

With  pain  :  as  in  a  dream  I  seem'd  to  climb 

Forever  :  at  the  last  I  reach'd  a  door, 

A  light  was  in  the  crannies,  and  I  heard 

"  Glory  and  joy  and  honor  to  our  Lord 

And  to  the  Holy  Vessel  of  the  Grail." 

Then  in  my  madness  I  essay'd  the  door 

4*  B 


02  THE   HOLY   GRAIL. 

It  gave,  and  thro'  a  stormy  glare,  a  heat 
As  from  a  seven-times-heated  furnace,  I, 
Blasted  and  burnt,  and  blinded  as  I  was, 
With  such  a  fierceness  that  I  swoon'd  away. 
O,  yet  methought  I  saw  the  Holy  Grail, 
All  pall'd  in  crimson  samite,  and  around 
Great  angels,  awful  shapes,  and  wings  and  eyes. 
And  but  for  all  my  madness  and  my  sin, 
And  then  my  swooning,  I  had  sworn  I  saw 
That  which  I  saw  ;  but  what  I  saw  was  veil'd 
And  cover'd  ;  and  this  quest  was  not  for  me.' 

"  So  speaking,  and  here  ceasing,  Lancelot  left 
The  hall  long  silent,  till  Sir  Gawain  —  nay, 
Brother,  I  need  not  tell  thee  foolish  words,  — 
A  reckless  and  irreverent  knight  was  he, 
Now  bolden'd  by  the  silence  of  his  king,  — 
Well,  I  will  tell  thee  :  6  O  king,  my  liege,'  he  said, 
4  Hath  Gawain  fail'd  in  any  quest  of  thine  ? 
When  have  I  stinted  stroke  in  foughten  field  ? 


THE    HOLT    GRAIL.  83 

But  as  for  thine,  my  good  friend,  Percivale, 
Thy  holy  nun  and  thou  have  driven  men  mad, 
Yea,  made  our  mightiest  madder  than  our  least. 
But  by  mine  eyes  and  by  mine  ears  I  swear, 
I  will  be  deafer  than  the  blue-eyed  cat, 
And  thrice  as  blind  as  any  noonday  owl, 
To  holy  virgins  in  their  ecstasies, 
Henceforward.' 

" '  Deafer/  said  the  blameless  King, 
4  Gawain,  and  blinder  unto  holy  things 
Hope  not  to  make  thyself  by  idle  vows, 
Being  too  blind  to  have  desire  to  see. 
But  if  indeed  there  came  a  sign  from  heaven, 
Blessed  are  Bors,  Lancelot,  and  Percivale, 
For  these  have  seen  according  to  their  sight. 
For  every  fiery  prophet  in  old  times, 
And  all  the  sacred  madness  of  the  bard, 
When  God  made  music  thro'  them,  could  but  speak 
His  music  by  the  framework  and  the  chord, 
A.nd  as  ye  saw  it  ye  have  spoken  truth. 


84  THE    HOLT    GRAIL. 

"  *  Nay  —  but  tbou  errest,  Lancelot :  never  yet 
Could  all  of  true  and  noble  in  knigbt  and  man 
Twine  round  one  sin,  whatever  it  might  be, 
With  such  a  closeness,  but  apart  there  grew, 
Save  that  he  were  the  swine  thou  spakest  of, 
Some  root  of  knighthood  and  pure  nobleness ; 
>     Whereto  see  thou,  that  it  may  bear  its  flower. 

"  <  And  spake  I  not  too  truly,  O  my  knights  ? 
Was  I  too  dark  a  prophet  when  I  said 
To  those  who  went  upon  the  Holy  Quest 
That  most  of  them  would  follow  wandering  fires, 
Lost  in  the  quagmire,  —  lost  to  me  and  gone, 
And  left  me  gazing  at  a  barren  board, 
And  a  lean  order  —  scarce  returned  a  tithe  — 
And  out  of  those  to  whom  the  vision  came      » 
My  greatest  hardly  will  believe  he  saw ; 
Another  hath  beheld  it  afar  off, 
And  leaving  human  wrongs  to  right  themselves, 
Cares  but  to  pass  into  the  silent  life. 
And  one  hath  had  the  vision  face  to  face, 


THE    HOLY    GRAIL.  85 

And  now  his  chair  desires  him  here  in  vain, 
However  they  may  crown  him  otherwhere. 

"  'And  some  among  you  held  that  if  the  king 
Had  seen  the  sight  he  would  have  sworn  the  vow ; 
Not  easily,  seeing  that  the  king  must  guard 
That  which  he  rules,  and  is  but  as  the  hind 
To  whom  a  space  of  land  is  given  to  plough, 
Who  may  not  wander  from  the  allotted  field 
Before  his  work  be  done  ;  but,  being  done, 
Let  visions  of  the  night  or  of  the  day 
Come,  as  they  will ;  and  many  a  time  they  come, 
Until  this  earth  he  walks  on  seems  not  earth, 
This  light  that  strikes  his  eyeball  is  not  light, 
This  air  that  smites  his  forehead  is  not  air 
But  vision  —  yea,  his  very  hand  and  foot  — 
In  moments  when  he  feels  he  cannot  die, 
And  knows  himself  no  vision  to  himself, 
Nor  the  high  God  a  vision,  nor  that  One 
Who  rose  again :  ye  have  seen  what  ye  have  seen.' 

"  So  spake  the  king :  I  knew  not  all  he  meant." 


PELLEAS    AND    ETTARRE. 


PELLEAS   AND   ETTARRE. 


KING-  Arthur  made  new  knights  to  fill  the  gap 
Left  by  the  Holy  Quest ;  and  as  he  sat 
In  hall  at  old  Caerleon,  the  high  doors 
Were  softly  sunder'd,  and  thro'  these  a  youth, 
Pelleas,  and  the  sweet  smell  of  the  fields 
Past,  and  the  sunshine  came  along  with  him. 

"  Make  me  thy  knight,  because  I  know,  Sir  King, 
All  that  belongs  to  knighthood,  and  I  love," 
Such  was  his  cry ;  for  having  heard  the  king 
Had  let  proclaim  a  tournament  —  the  prize 
A  golden  circlet  and  a  knightly  sword, 
Full  fain  had  Pelleas  for  his  lady  won 


90  PELLEAS   AND    ETTARRE. 

The  golden  circlet,  for  himself  the  sword : 

And  there  were  those  who  knew  him  near  the  king 

And  promised  for  him  :  and  Arthur  made  him  knight. 

And  this  new  knight,  Sir  Pelleas  of  the  isles  — 
But  lately  come  to  his  inheritance, 
And  lord  of  many  a  barren  isle  was  he  — 
Riding  at  noon,  a  day  or  twain  before, 
Across  the  forest  call'd  of  Dean,  to  find 
Caerleon  and  the  king,  had  felt  the  sun 
Beat  like  a  strong  knight  on  his  helm,  and  reel'd 
Almost  to  falling  from  his  horse ;  but  saw 
Near  him  a  mound  of  even-sloping  side, 
Whereon  a  hundred  stately  beeches  grew, 
And  here  and  there  great  hollies  under  them. 
But  for  a  mile  all  round  was  open  space, 
And  fern  and  heath :  and  slowly  Pelleas  drew 
To  that  dim  day,  then  binding  his  good  horse 
To  a  tree,  cast  himself  down ;  and  as  he  lay 
At  random  looking  over  the  brown  earth 


PELLEAS    AND    ETTARRE.  91 

Thro*  that  green-glooming  twilight  of  the  grove, 
It  seem'd  to  Pelleas  that  the  fern  without 
Burnt  as  a  living  fire  of  emeralds, 
So  that  his  eyes  were  dazzled  looking  at  it. 
Then  o'er  it  crost  the  dimness  of  a  cloud 
Floating,  and  once  the  shadow  of  a  bird 
Flying,  and  then  a  fawn ;  and  his  eyes  closed. 
And  since  he  loved  all  maidens,  but  no  maid 
In  special,  half  awake  he  whisper'd,  "  Where  ? 
O  where  ?     I  love  thee,  tho'  I  know  thee  not. 
For  fair  thou  art  and  pure  as  Guinevere, 
And  I  will  make  thee  with  my  spear  and  sword 
As  famous  —  O  my  queen,  my  Guinevere, 
For  I  will  be  thine  Arthur  when  we  meet." 

Suddenly  waken'd  with  a  sound  of  talk 
And  laughter  at  the  limit  of  the  wood, 
And  glancing  thro'  the  hoary  boles,  he  saw, 
Strange  as  to  some  old  prophet  might  have  seem'd 
A  vision  hovering  on  a  sea  of  fire, 


92  PELLEAS    AND    ETTAURE. 

Damsels  in  divers  colors  like  the  cloud 

Of  sunset  and  sunrise,  and  all  of  them 

On  horses,  and  the  horses  richly  trapt 

Breast-high  in  that  bright  line  of  bracken  stood : 

And  all  the  damsels  talk'd  confusedly, 

And  one  was  pointing  this  way,  and  one  that, 

Because  the  way  was  lost. 

And  Pelleas  rose, 

And  loosed  his  horse,  and  led  him  to  the  light. 
There  she  that  seem'd  the  chief  among  them,  said, 
"  In  happy  time  behold  our  pilot-star. 
Youth,  we  are  damsels-errant,  and  we  ride, 
Arm'd  as  ye  see,  to  tilt  against  the  knights 
There  at  Caerleon,  but  have  lost  our  way: 
To  right  ?  to  left  ?  straight  forward  ?  back  again  ? 
Which?  tell  us  quickly." 

And  Pelleas  gazing  thought, 
"  Is  Guinevere  herself  so  beautiful  ?  " 


PELLEAS    AND    ETTARRE.  93 

For  large  her  violet  eyes  look'd,  and  her  bloom 

A  rosy  dawn  kindled  in  stainless  heavens, 

And  round  her  limbs,  mature  in  womanhood, 

And  slender  was  her  hand  and,  small  her  shape, 

And  but  for  those  large  eyes,  the  haunts  of  scorn, 

She  might  have  seem'd  a  toy  to  trifle  with, 

And  pass  and  care  no  more.     But  while  he  gazed 

The  beauty  of  her  flesh  abash'd  the  boy, 

As  tho'  it  were  the  beauty  of  her  soul : 

For  as  the  base  man,  judging  of  the  good, 

Puts  his  own  baseness  in  him  by  default 

Of  will  and  nature,  so  did  Pelleas  lend 

All  the  young  beauty  of  his  own  soul  to  hers, 

Believing  her ;  and  when  she  spake  to  him, 

Stammer'd,  and  could  not  make  her  a  reply. 

For  out  of  the  waste  islands  had  he  come, 

Where  saving  his  own  sisters  he  had  known 

Scarce  any  but  the  women  of  his  isles, 

Rough  wives,  that  laugh'd  and  scream'd  against  the  gulls, 

Makers  of  nets,  and  living  from  the  sea. 


94  PELLEAS    AND    ETTAKRE. 

Then  with  a  slow  smile  turn'd  the  lady  round 
And  look'd  upon  her  people ;  and  as  when 
A  stone  is  flung  into  some  sleeping  tarn, 
The  circle  widens  till  it  lip  the  marge, 
Spread  the  slow  smile  thro'  all  her  company. 
Three  knights  were  thereamong ;  and  they  too  smiled, 
Scorning  him ;  for  the  lady  was  Ettarre, 
And  she  was  a  great  lady  in  her  land. 

Again  she  said,  "  O  wild  and  of  the  woods, 
Knowest  thou  not  the  fashion  of  our  speech  ? 
Or  have  the  Heavens  but  given  thee  a  fair  face, 
Lacking  a  tongue  ?  " 

"  O  damsel,"  answer'd  he, 

"  I  woke  from  dreams  ;  and  coming  out  of  gloom 
Was  dazzled  by  the  sudden  light,  and  crave 
Pardon  :  but  will  ye  to  Caerleon  ?     I 
Go  likewise :  shall  I  lead  you  to  the  King  ?  " 


PELLEAS    AND    ETTAKRE.  95 

"  Lead  then,"  she  said  ;  and  thro'  the  woods  they  went. 

And  while  they  rode,  the  meaning  in  his  eyes, 

His  tenderness  of  manner,  and  chaste  awe, 

His  broken  utterances  and  bashfulness, 

"Were  all  a  burden  to  her,  and  in  her  heart 

She  mutter'd,  "  I  have  lighted  on  a  fool, 

Raw,  yet  so  stale  !  "     But  since.her  mind  was  bent 

On  hearing,  after  trumpet  blown,  her  name 

And  title,  "  Queen  of  Beauty,"  in  the  lists 

Cried  —  and  beholding  him  so  strong,  she  thought 

That  peradventure  he  will  fight  for  me, 

And  win  the  circlet :  therefore  flatter'd  him, 

Being  so  gracious,  that  he  wellnigh  deem'd 

His  wish  by  hers  was  echo'd  ;  and  her  knights 

And  all  her  damsels  too  were  gracious  to  him, 

For  she  was  a  great  lady. 

And  when  they  reach'd 
Caerleon,  ere  they  past  to  lodging,  she, 


96  PELLEAS    AND    ETTARRE. 

Taking  his  hand,  "  O  the  strong  hand,'*  she  said, 
"  See  !  look  at  mine !  but  wilt  thou  fight  for  me, 
And  win  me  this  fine  circlet,  Pelleas, 
That  I  may  love  thee  ?  " 

Then  his  helpless  heart 

Leapt,  and  he  cried,  "  Ay !  wilt  thou  if  I  win  ?  " 
"Ay,  that  will  I,"  she  answer'd,  and  she  laugh'd, 
And  straitly  nipt  the  hand,  and  flung  it  from  her  ; 
Then  glanced  askew  at  those  three  knights  of  hers, 
Till  all  her  ladies  laugh'd  along  with  her. 

"  0  happy  world,"  thought  Pelleas,  "  all,  meseems, 
Are  happy  ;  I  the  happiest  of  them  all." 
Nor  slept  that  night  for  pleasure  in  his  blood, 
And  green  wood- ways,  and  eyes  among  ,the  leaves  ; 
Then  being  on  the  morrow  knighted,  svvare 
To  love  one  only.     And  as  he  came  away, 
The  men  who  met  him  rounded  on  their  heels 


PELLEAS    AND,  ETTARRE.  97 

And  wonder'd  after  him,  because  his  face 
Shone  like  the  countenance  of  a  priest  of  old 
Against  the  flame  about  a  sacrifice 
Kindled  by  fire  from  heaven :  so  glad  was  he. 

Then  Arthur  made  vast  banquets,  and  strange  knights 
From  the  four  winds  came  in :  and  each  one  sat, 
Tho'  served  with  choice  from  air,  land,  stream,  and  sea, 
Oft  in  mid-banquet  measuring  with  his  eyes 
His  neighbor's  make  and  might :  and  Pelleas  look'd 
Noble  among  the  noble,  for  he  dream'd 
His  lady  loved  him,  and  he  knew  himself 
Loved  of  the  King :  and  him  his  new-made  knight 
Worshipt,  whose  lightest  whisper  moved  him  more 
Than  all  the  ranged  reasons  of  the  world. 

Then  blush' d  and  brake  the  morning  of  the  jousts. 
And  this  was  call'd  "  The  Tournament  of  Youth  " : 
For  Arthur,  loving  his  young  knight,  withheld 
His  older  and  his  mightier  from  the  lists, 

5  o 


98  PELLEAS    AND    ETTARRE. 

That  Pelleas  migjbt  obtain  his  lady's  love, 
According  to  her  promise,  and  remain 
Lord  of  the  tourney.     And  Arthur  had  the  jousts 
Down  in  the  flat  field  by  the  shore  of  Usk 
Holden :  the  gilded  parapets  were  crown'd 
With  faces,  and  the  great  tower  fill'd  with  eyes 
Up  to  the  summit,  and  the  trumpets  blew. 
There  all  day  long  Sir  Pelleas  kept  the  field 
With  honor :  so  by  that  strong  hand  of  his 
The  sword  and  golden  circlet  were  achieved. 

Then  rang  the  shout  his  lady  loved  :  the  heat 
Of  pride  and  glory  fired  her  face  ;  her  eye 
Sparkled  ;  she  caught  the  circlet  from  his  lance, 
And  there  before  the  people  crown'd  herself: 
So  for  the  last  time  she  was  gracious  to  him. 

Then  at  Caerleon  for  a  space  —  her  look 
Bright  for  all  others,  cloudier  on  her  knight  — 
Linger'd  Ettarre  :  and  seeing  Pelleas  droop, 


PELLEAS    AND  / 

or  TBK 
Said  Guinevere,  "  We  marvel  at  the«Wcj»  T  V  12  H  S  I 

0  damsel,  wearing  this  unsunny  face 
To  him  who  won  thee  glory !  "  And  she 

"  Had  ye  not  held  your  Lancelot  in  your  bower, 
My  Queen,  he  had  not  won."     Whereat  the  Queen, 
As  one  whose  foot  is  bitten  by  an  ant, 
Glanced  down  upon  her,  turn'd  and  went  her  way. 

But  after,  when  her  damsels,  and  herself, 
And  those  three  knights  all  set  their  faces  home, 
Sir  Pelleas  followed.     She  that  saw  him  cried, 
"  Damsels  —  and  yet  I  should  be  shamed  to  say  it  — 

1  cannot  bide  Sir  Baby.     Keep  him  back 
Among  yourselves.     Would  rather  that  we  had 
Some  rough  old  knight  who  knew  the  worldly  way, 
Albeit  grizzlier  than  a  bear,  to  ride 

And  jest  with :  take  him  to  you,  keep  him  off, 
And  pamper  him  with  papmeat,  if  ye  will, 
Old  milky  fables  of  the  wolf  and  sheep, 
Such  as  the  wholesome  mothers  tell  their  boys. 


100  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Nay,  should  ye  try  him  with  a  merry  one 

To  find  his  mettle,  good  :  and  if  he  fly  us, 

Small  matter  !  let  him."     This  her  damsels  heard, 

And  mindful  of  her  small  and  cruel  hand, 

They,  closing  round  him  thro'  the  journey  home, 

Acted  her  hest,  and  always  from  her  side 

Restrained  him  with  all  manner  of  device, 

So  that  he  could  not  come  to  speech  with  her. 

And  when  she  gain'd  her  castle,  upsprang  the  bridge, 

Down  rang  the  grate  of  iron  thro'  the  groove, 

And  he  was  left  alone  in  open  field. 

"  These  be  the  ways  of  ladies,"  Pelleas  thought, 
"  To  those  who  love  them,  trials  of  our  faith. 
Yea,  let  her  prove  me  to  the  uttermost, 
For  loyal  to  the  uttermost  am  I." 
So  made  his  moan  ;  and,  darkness  falling,  sought 
A  priory  not  far  off*,  there  lodged,  but  rose 
With  morning  every  day,  and,  moist  or  dry, 
Full-arm'd  upon  his  charger  all  day  long 
Sat  by  the  walls,  and  no  one  open'd  to  him. 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE.  101 

And  this  persistence  turn'd  her  scorn  to  wrath. 
Then  calling  her  three  knights,  she  charged  them,  "  Out ! 
And  drive  him  from  the  walls."     And  out  they  came, 
But  Pelleas  overthrew  them  as  they  dash'd 
Against  him  one  by  one  ;  and  these  return'dr 
But  still  he  kept  his  watch  beneath  the  wall. 

Thereon  her  wrath  became  a  hate  ;  and  once, 
A  week  beyond,  while  walking  on  the  walls 
With  her  three  knights,  she  pointed  downward,  "  Look, 
He  haunts  me  —  I  cannot  breathe  —  besieges  me  ; 
Down !  strike  him  !  put  my  hate  into  your  strokes, 
And  drive  him  from  my  walls."    And  down  they  went, 
And  Pelleas  overthrew  them  one  by  one ; 
And  from  the  tower  above  him  cried  Ettarre, 
"  Bind  him,  and  bring  him  in." 

He  heard  her  voice  ; 

Then  let  the  strong  hand,  which  had  overthrown 
Her  minion-knights,  by  those  he  overthrew 
Be  bounden  straight,  and  so  they  brought  him  in. 


102  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Then  when  he  came  before  Ettarre,  the  sight 
Of  her  rich  beauty  made  him  at  one  glance 
More  bondsman  in  his  heart  than  in  his  bonds. 
Yet  with  good  cheer  he  spake,  "  Behold  me,  Lady, 
A  prisoner,  and  the  vassal  of  thy  will ; 
And  if  thou  keep  me  in  thy  donjon  here, 
Content  am  I  so  that  see  thy  face 
But  once  a  day  :  for  I  have  sworn  my  vows, 
And  thou  hast  given  thy  promise,  and  I  know 
That  all  these  pains  are  trials  of  my  faith, 
And  that  thyself,  when  thou  hast  seen  me  strain'd 
And  sifted  to  the  utmost,  wilt  at  length 
Yield  me  thy  love  and  know  me  for  thy  knight." 

Then  she  began  to  rail  so  bitterly, 
With  all  her  damsels,  he  was  stricken  mute ; 
But  when  she  mock'd  his  vows  and  the  great  King, 
Lighted  on  words :  "  For  pity  of  thine  own  self, 
Peace,  Lady,  peace  :  is  he  not  thine  and  mine  ?  " 
"  Thou  fool,"  she  said,  "  I  never  heard  his  voice 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE.  103 

But  long'd  to  break  away.     Unbind  him  now, 
And  thrust  him  out  of  doors ;  for  save  he  be 
Fool  to  the  midmost  marrow  of  his  bones, 
He  will  return  no  more."     And  those,  her  three, 
Laugh'd,  and  unbound,  and  thrust  him  from  the  gate. 

And  after  this,  a  week  beyond,  again 
She  calPd  them,  saying,  "  There  he  watches  yet, 
There  like  a  dog  before  his  master's  door ! 
Kicked,  he  returns :  do  ye  not  hate  him,  ye  ? 
Ye  know  yourselves  :  how  can  ye  bide  at  peace, 
Affronted  with  his  fulsome  innocence  ? 
Are  ye  but  creatures  of  the  board  and  bed, 
No  men  to  strike  ?     Fall  on  him  all  at  once, 
And  if  ye  slay  him  I  reck  not :  if  ye  fail, 
Give  ye  the  slave  mine  order  to  be  bound, 
Bind  him  as  heretofore,  and  bring  him  in : 
It  may  be  ye  shall  slay  him  in  his  bonds." 

She  spake  ;  and  at  her  will  they  couch'd  their  spears, 


104  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Three  against  one  :  and  Gawain  passing  by, 

Bound  upon  solitary  adventure,  saw 

Low  down  beneath  the  shadow  of  those  towers 

A  villany,  three  to  one :  and  thro'  his  heart 

The  fire  of  honor  and  all  noble  deeds 

Flash'd,  and  he  call'd,  "  I  strike  upon  thy  side  — 

The  caitiffs !  "     «  Nay,"  said  Pelleas,  «  but  forbear  ; 

He  needs  no  aid  who  cloth  his  lady's  will." 

So  Gawain,  looking  at  the  villany  done, 
Forbore,  but  in  his  heat  and  eagerness 
Trembled  and  quiver'd,  as  the  dog,  withheld 
A  moment  from  the  vermin  that  he  sees 
Before  him,  shivers,  ere  he  springs  and  kills. 

And  Pelleas  overthrew  them,  one  to  three  ; 
And  they  rose  up,  and  bound,  and  brought  him  in. 
Then  first  her  anger,  leaving  Pelleas,  burn'd 
Full  on  her  knights  in  many  an  evil  name 
Of  craven,  weakling,  and  thrice-beaten  hound : 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE.  105 

"  Yet,  take  him,  ye  that  scarce  are  fit  to  touch, 
Far  less  to  bind,  your  victor,  and  thrust  him  out, 
And  let  who  will  release  him  from  his  bonds. 
And  if  he  comes  again  "  —  there  she  brake  short ; 
And  Pelleas  answer'd,  "  Lady,  for  indeed 
I  loved  you  and  I  deem'd  you  beautiful, 
I  cannot  brook  to  see  your  beauty  marr'd 
Thro'  evil  spite  :  and  if  ye  love  me  not, 
I  cannot  bear  to  dream  you  so  forsworn  : 
I  had  liefer  ye  were  worthy  of  my  love, 
Than  to  be  loved  again  of  you  —  farewell ; 
And  tho'  ye  kill  my  hope,  not  yet  my  love, 
Vex  not  yourself:  ye  will  not  see  me  more." 

"While  thus  he  spake,  she  gazed  upon  the  man 
Of  princely  bearing,  tho'  in  bonds,  and  thought, 
"  Why  have  I  push'd  him  from  me  ?  this  man  loves, 
If  love  there  be  :  yet  him  I  loved  not.     Why  ? 
I  deem'd  him  fool  ?  yea,  so  ?  or  that  in  him 
A  something —  was  it  nobler  than  myself?  — 
5* 


106  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Seem'd  my  reproach  ?     He  is  not  of  my  kind. 
He  could  not  love  me,  did  he  know  me  well. 
Nay,  let  him  go  —  and  quickly."     And  her  knights 
Laugh'd  not,  but  thrust  him  bounden  out  of  door. 

Forth  sprang  Gawain,  and  loosed  him  from  his  bonds, 
And  flung  them  o'er  the  walls  ;  and  afterward, 
Shaking  his  hands,  as  from  a  lazar's  rag, 
"  Faith  of  my  body,"  he  said,  "  and  art  thou  not  — 
Yea  thou  art  he,  whom  late  our  Arthur  made 
Knight  of  his  table ;  yea  and  he  that  won 
The  circlet  ?  wherefore  hast  thou  so  defamed 
Thy  brotherhood  in  me  and  all  the  rest, 
As  let  these  caitiffs  on  thee  work  their  will  ?  " 

And  Pelleas  answer'd,  "  O,  their  wills  are  hers 
For  whom  I  won  the  circlet ;  and  mine,  hers, 
Thus  to  be  bounden,  so  to  see  her  face, 
Marr'd  tho'  it  be  with  spite  and  mockery  now, 
Other  than  when  I  found  her  in  the  woods ; 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE.  107 

And  tho'  she  hath  me  bounden  but  in  spite, 
And  all  to  flout  me,  when  they  bring  me  in, 
Let  me  be  bounden,  I  shall  see  her  face  ; 
Else  must  I  die  thro*  mine  unhappiness." 

And  Gawain  answer'd  kindly  tho'  in  scorn, 
"  Why,  let  my  lady  bind  me  if  she  will, 
And  let  my  lady  beat  me  if  she  will : 
But  an  she  send  her  delegate  to  thrall 
These  fighting  hands  of  mine  —  Christ  kill  me  then 
But  I  will  slice  him  handless  by  the  wrist, 
And  let  my  lady  sear  the  stump  for  him, 
Howl  as  he  may.     But  hold  me  for  your  friend : 
Come,  ye  know  nothing  :  here  I  pledge  my  troth, 
Yea,  by  the  honor  of  the  Table  Round, 
I  will  be  leal  to  thee  and  work  thy  work, 
And  tame  thy  jailing  princess  to  thine  hand. 
Lend  me  thine  horse  and  arm?,  and  I  will  say 
That  I  have  slain  thee.     She  will  let  me  in 
To  hear  the  manner  of  thy  fight  and  fall ; 


108  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Then,  when  I  come  within  her  counsels,  then 

From  prime  to  vespers  will  I  chant  thy  praise 

As  prowest  knight  and  truest  lover,  more 

Than  any  have  sung  thee  living,  till  she  long 

To  have  thee  back  in  lusty  life  again, 

Not  to  be  bound,  save  by  white  bonds  and  warm, 

Dearer  than  freedom.     Wherefore  now  thy  horse 

And  armor :  let  me  go  :  be  comforted  : 

Give  me  three  days  to  melt  her  fancy,  and  hope 

The  third  night  hence  will  bring  thee  news  of  gold." 

Then  Pelleas  lent  his  horse  and  all  his  arms, 
Saving  the  goodly  sword,  his  prize,  and  took 
Gawain's,  and  said,  "  Betray  me  not,  but  help  — 
Art  thou  not  he  whom  men  call  light-of-love  ?  " 

"  Ay,"  said  Gawain,  "  for  women  be  so  light." 
Then  bounded  forward  to  the  castle  walls, 
And  raised  a  bugle  hanging  from  his  neck, 
And  winded  it,  and  that  so  musically 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE.  109 

That  all  the  old  echoes  hidden  in  the  wall 
Rang  out  like  hollow  woods  at  huntingtide. 

Up  ran  a  score  of  damsels  to  the  tower  ; 
"  Avaunt,"  they  cried,  "  our  lady  loves  thee  not." 

But  Gawain  lifting  up  his  visor  said, 
"  Gawain  am  I,  Gawain  of  Arthur's  court, 
And  I  have  slain  this  Pelleas  whom  ye  hate : 
Behold  his  horse  and  armor.     Open  gate, 
And  I  will  make  you  merry." 

And  down  they  ran, 

Her  damsels,  crying  to  their  lady,  "  Lo  ! 
Pelleas  is  dead  —  he  told  us  —  he  that  hath 
His  horse  and  armor  :  will  ye  let  him  in  ? 
He  slew  him !  Gawain,  Gawain  of  the  court, 
Sir  Gawain  —  there  he  waits  below  the  wall, 
Blowing  his  bugle  as  who  should  say  him  nay." 

And  so,  leave  given,  straight  on  thro'  open  door 


110  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Rode  Gawain,  whom  she  greeted  courteously. 
"  Dead,  is  it  so  ?  "  she  ask'd.    "  Ay,  ay,"  said  he, 
"  And  oft  in  dying  cried  upon  your  name." 
"  Pity  on  him,"  she  answer'd,  "  a  good  knight, 
But  never  let  me  bide  one  hour  at  peace." 
"  Ay,"  thought  Gawain,  "  and  ye  be  fair  enow : 
But  I  to  your  dead  man  have  given  my  troth, 
That  whom  ye  loathe  him  will  I  make  you  love." 

So  those  three  days,  aimless  about  the  land, 
Lost  in  a  doubt,  Pelleas  wandering 
Waited,  until  the  third  night  brought  a  moon 
With  promise  of  large  light  on  woods  and  ways. 

The  night  was  hot :  he  could  not  rest,  but  rode 
Ere  midnight  to  her  walls,  and  bound  his  horse 
Hard  by  the  gates.     Wide  open  were  the  gates, 
And  no  watch  kept ;  and  in  thro'  these  he  past, 
And  heard  but  his  own  steps,  and  his  own  heart 
Beating,  for  nothing  moved  but  his  own  self, 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE.  Ill 

And  his  own  shadow.     Then  he  crost  the  court, 
And  saw  the  postern  portal  also  wide 
Yawning  ;  and  up  a  slope  of  garden,  all 
Of  roses  white  and  red,  and  wild  ones  mixt 
And  overgrowing  them,  went  on,  and  found, 
Here  too,  all  hush'd  below  the  mellow  moon, 
Save  that  one  rivulet  from  a  tiny  cave 
Came  lightening  downward,  and  so  spilt  itself 
Among  the  roses,  and  was  lost  again. 

Then  was  he  ware  that  white  pavilions  rose, 
Three  from  the  bushes,  gilden-peakt :  in  one, 
Red  after  revel,  droned  her  lurdan  knights 
Slumbering,  and  their  three  squires  across  their  feet : 
In  one,  their  malice  on  the  placid  lip 
Froz'n  by  sweet  sleep,  four  of  her  damsels  lay  : 
And  in  the  third,  the  circlet  of  the  jousts 
Bound  on  her  brow,  were  Gawain  and  Ettarre. 

Back,  as  a  hand  that  pushes  thro'  the  leaf 


112  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

To  find  a  nest  and  feels  a  snake,  he  drew  : 
Back,  as  a  coward  slinks  from  what  he  fears 
To  cope  with,  or  a  traitor  proven,  or  hound 
Beaten,  did  Pelleas  in  an  utter  shame 
Creep  with  his  shadow  thro'  the  court  again, 
Fingering  at  his  sword-handle  until  he  stood 
There  on  the  castle-bridge  once  more,  and  thought, 
"  I  will  go  back,  and  slay  them  where  they  lie." 

And  so  went  back  and  seeing  them  yet  in  sleep 
Said,  "  Ye,  that  so  dishallow  the  holy  sleep, 
Your  sleep  is  death,"  and  drew  the  sword,  and  thought, 
"  What !  slay  a  sleeping  knight  ?  the  King  hath  bound 
And  sworn  me  to  this  brotherhood  "  ;  again, 
"  Alas  that  ever  a  knight  should  be  so  false." 
Then  turn'd,  and  so  return'd,  and  groaning  laid 
The  naked  sword  athwart  their  naked  throats, 
There  left  it,  and  them  sleeping ;  and  she  lay, 
The  circlet  of  the  tourney  round  her  brows, 
And  the  sword  of  the  tourney  across  her  throat. 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE.  113 

And  forth  he  past,  and  mounting  on  his  horse 
Stared  at  her  towers  that,  larger  than  themselves 
In  their  own  darkness,  throng'd  into  the  moon. 
Then  crush'd  the  saddle  with  his  thighs,  and  clench'd 
His  hands,  and  madden'd  with  himself  and  moan'd : 

"  Would  they  have  risen  against  me  in  their  blood 
At  the  last  day  ?     I  might  have  answer'd  them 
Even  before  high  God.     O  towers  so  strong, 
So  solid,  would  that  even  while  I  gaze 
The  crack  of  earthquake  shivering  to  your  base 
Split  you,  and  Hell  burst  up  your  harlot  roofs 
Bellowing,  and  charr'd  you  thro'  and  thro'  within, 
Black  as  the  harlot's  heart  —  hollow  as  a  skull ! 
Let  the  fierce  east  scream  thro'  your  eyelet-holes, 
And  whirl  the  dust  of  harlots  round  and  round 
In  dung  and  nettles !  hiss,  snake  —  I  saw  him  there  — 
Let  the  fox  bark,  let  the  wolf  yell.     Who  yells 
Here  in  the  still  sweet  summer  night,  but  I  — 
I,  the  poor  Pelleas  whom  she  call'd  her  fool  ? 


114  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Fool,  beast  —  he,  she,  or  I  ?  myself  most  fool ; 
Beast  too,  as  lacking  human  wit  —  disgraced, 
Dishonor'd  all  for  trial  of  true  love  — 
Love  ?  —  we  be  all  alike  :  only  the  king 
Hath  made  us  fools  and  liars.     O  noble  vows  ! 

0  great  and  sane  and  simple  race  of  brutes 
That  own  no  lust  because  they  have  no  law ! 
For  why  should  I  have  loved  her  to  my  shame  ? 

1  loathe  her,  as  I  loved  her  to  my  shame. 
I  never  loved  her,  I  but  lusted  for  her  — 
Away  —  " 

He  dash'd  the  rowel  into  his  horse, 
And  bounded  forth  and  vanished  thro*  the  night. 

Then  she,  that  felt  the  cold  touch  on  her  throat, 
Awakin^  knew  the  sword,  and  turn'd  herself 

O 

To  Gawain  :  "  Liar,  for  thou  hast  not  slain 
This  Pelleas !  here  he  stood  and  might  have  slain 
Me  and  thyself."     And  he  that  tells  the  tale 
Says  that  her  ever-veering  fancy  turn'd 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTAHRE.  115 

To  Pelleas,  as  the  one  true  knight  on  earth, 
And  only  lover  ;  and  thro'  her  love  her  life 
Wasted  and  pined,  desiring  him  in  vain. 

But  he  by  wild  and  way,  for  half  the  night, 
And  over  hard  and  soft,  striking  the  sod 
From  out  the  soft,  the  spark  from  off  the  hard, 
Rode  till  the  star  above  the  wakening  sun, 
Beside  that  tower  where  Percivale  was  cowl'd, 
Glanced  from  the  rosy  forehead  of  the  dawn. 
For  so  the  words  were  flash'd  into  his  heart 
He  knew  not  whence  or  wherefore :  "  O  sweet  star, 
Pure  on  the  virgin  forehead  of  the  dawn." 
And  there  he  would  have  wept,  but  felt  his  eyes 
Harder  and  drier  than  a  fountain  bed 
In  summer :  thither  came  the  village  girls 
And  linger'd  talking,  and  they  come  no  more 
Till  the  sweet  heavens  have  filPd  it  from  the  heights 
Again  with  living  waters  in  the  change 
Of  seasons  :  hard  his  eyes  ;  harder  his  heart 


116  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Seem'd  ;  but  so  weary  were  his  limbs,  that  he, 
Gasping,  "  Of  Arthur's  hall  am  I,  but  here, 
Here  let  me  rest  and  die,"  cast  himself  down, 
And  gulf 'd  his  griefs  in  inmost  sleep  ;  so  lay, 
Till  shaken  by  a  dream,  that  Gawain  fired 
The  hall  of  Merlins  and  the  morning  star 
Reel'd  in  the  smoke,  brake  into  flame,  and  fell. 

He  woke,  and  being  ware  of  some  one  nigh, 
Sent  hands  upon  him,  as  to  tear  him,  crying, 
"  False !  and  I  held  thee  pure  as  Guinevere." 

But  Percivale  stood  near  him  and  replied, 
"  Am  I  but  false  as  Guinevere  is  pure? 
Or  art  thou  mazed  with  dreams  ?  or  being  one 
Of  our  free-spoken  Table  hast  not  heard 
That  Lancelot "  —  there  he  check'd  himself  and  paused. 

Then  fared  it  with  Sir  Pelleas  as  with  one 
Who  gets  a  wound  in  battle,  and  the  sword 
That  made  it  plunges  thro'  the  wound  again, 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE.  117 

And  pricks  it  deeper  :  and  he  shrank  and  wail'd, 
"  Is  the  Queen  false  ?  "  and  Percivale  was  mute. 
"  Have  any  of  our  Round  Table  held  their  vows  ?  " 
And  Percivale  made  answer  not  a  word. 
"  Is  the  king  true  ?  "     "  The  king ! "  said  Percivale. 
"  Why  then  let  men  couple  at  once  with  wolves. 
What !  art  thou  mad  ?  " 

^ 

But  Pelleas,  leaping  up, 

Ean  thro*  the  doors  and  vaulted  on  his  horse 
And  fled  :  small  pity  upon  his  horse  had  he, 
Or  on  himself,  or  any,  and  when  he  met 
A  cripple,  one  that  held  a  hand  for  alms  — 
Hunch'd  as  he  was,  and  like  an  old  dwarf-elm 
That  turns  its  back  on  the  salt  blast,  the  boy 
Paused  not  but  overrode  him,  shouting,  "  False, 
And  false  with  Gawain  ! "  and  so  left  him  bruised 

And  batter'd,  and  fled  on,  and  hill  and  wood 

\ 
Went  ever  streaming  by  him  till  the  gloom, 

That  follows  on  the  turning  of  the  world, 


118  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Darkeird  the  common  path  :  he  twitch'd  the  reins, 
And  made  his  beast  that  better  knew  it,  swerve 
Now  off  it  and  now  on  ;  but  when  he  saw 
High  up  in  heaven  the  hall  that  Merlin  built, 
Blackening  against  the  dead-green  stripes  of  even, 
"  Black  nest  of  rats,"  he  groan'd,  "ye  build  too  high." 

Not  long  thereafter  from  the  city  gates 
Issued  Sir  Lancelot  riding  airily, 
Warm  with  a  gracious  parting  from  the  Queen, 
Peace  at  his  heart,  and  gazing  at  a  star 
And  marvelling  what  it  was :  on  whom  the  boy, 
Across  the  silent  seeded  meadow-grass 
Borne,  clash'd :  and  Lancelot,  saying,  "  What  name  hast 

thou 

That  ridest  here  so  blindly  and  so  hard  ?  " 
"  I  have  no  name,"  he  shouted,  "  a  scourge  am  I, 
To  lash  the  treasons  of  the  Table  Round." 
"  Yea,  but  thy  name  ?  "  "I  have  many  names,"  he  cried : 
"  I  am  wrath  and  shame  and  hate  and  evil  fame, 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE.  119 

And  like  a  poisonous  wind  I  pass  to  blast 

And  blaze  the  crime  of  Lancelot  and  the  Queen." 

"  First  over  me,"  said  Lancelot,  "  shalt  thou  pass." 

"  Fight  therefore,"  yell'd  the  other,  and  either  knight 

Drew  back  a  space,  and  when  they  closed,  at  once 

The  weary  steed  of  Pelleas  floundering  flung 

His  rider,  who  called  out  from  the  dark  field, 

"  Thou  art  false  as  Hell :  slay  me :  I  have  no  sword."  . 

Then  Lancelot,  "  Yea,  between  thy  lips  —  and  sharp ; 

But  here  will  I  disedge  it  by  thy  death." 

"  Slay  then,"  he  shriek'd,  "  my  will  is  to  be  slain." 

And  Lancelot,  with  his  heel  upon  the  fall'n, 

Rolling  his  eyes,  a  moment  stood,  then  spake : 

"  Rise,  weakling  ;  I  am  Lancelot ;  say  thy  say." 

And  Lancelot  slowly  rode  his  war-horse  back 
To  Camelot,  and  Sir  Pelleas  in  brief  while 
Caught  his  unbroken  limbs  from  the  dark  field, 
And  follow'd  to  the  city.     It  chanced  that  both 
Brake  into  hall  together,  worn  and  pale. 
There  with  her  knights  and  dames  was  Guinevere. 


120  PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 

Full  wonderingly  she  gazed  on  Lancelot 

So  soon  return'd,  and  then  on  Pelleas,  him 

Who  had  not  greeted  her,  but  cast  himself 

Down  on  a  bench,  hard-breathing.     "  Have  ye  fought  ?  " 

She  ask'd  of  Lancelot.     "  Ay,  my  Queen,"  he  said. 

"  And  thou  hast  overthrown  him  ?  "     "  Ay,  my  Queen." 

Then  she,  turning  to  Pelleas,  "  O  young  knight, 

Hath  the  great  heart  of  knighthood  in  thee  fail'd 

So  far  thou  canst  not  bide,  unfrowardly, 

A  fall  from  him  ?  "     Then,  for  he  answer'd  not, 

"  Or  hast  thou  other  griefs  ?     If  I,  the  Queen, 

May  help  them,  loose  thy  tongue,  and  let  me  know." 

But  Pelleas  lifted  u*  an  eye  so  fierce 

She  quail'd  ;  and  he,  hissing,  "  I  have  no  sword," 

Sprang  from  the  door  into  the  dark.     The  Queen 

Look'd  hard  upon  her  lover,  he  on  her ; 

And  each  foresaw  the  dolorous  day  to  be : 

And  all  talk  died,  as  in  a  grove  all  song 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  some  bird  of  prey, 

Then  a  long  silence  came  upon  the  hall, 

And  Modred  thought,  "  The  time  is  hard  at  hand." 


THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR. 


THE    PASSING    OF   ARTHUR. 


THAT  story  which  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere 
First  made  and  latest  left  of  all  the  knights, 
Told,  when  the  man  was  no  more  than  a  voice 
In  the  white  winter  of  his  age,  to  those 
With  whom  he  dwelt,  new  faces,  other  minds. 

Before  that  last  weird  battle  in  the  "West 
There  came  on  Arthur  sleeping,  Gawain  kill'd 
In  Lancelot's  war,  th%~ghtfst  of  Gawain  blown 
Along  a  wandering  wind,  and  past  his  ear 
Went  shrilling,  "  Hollow,  hollow  all  delight ! 
Hail,  king !  to-morrow  thou  shalt  pass  away. 
Farewell !  there  is  an  isle  of  rest  for  thee. 


124  THE    PASSING    OF   ARTHUR. 

And  I  am  blown  along  a  wandering  wind, 

And  hollow,  hollow,  hollow  all  delight." 

And  fainter  onward,  like  wild  birds  that  change 

Their  season  in  the  night  and  wail  their  way 

From  cloud  to  cloud,  down  the  long  wind  the  dream 

Shrill'd ;  but  in  going  mingled  with  dim  cries 

Far  in  the  moonlit  haze  among  the  hills 

As  of  some  lonely  city  sack'd  by  night, 

When  all  is  lost,  and  wife  and  child  with  wail 

Pass  to  new  lords ;  and  Arthur  woke  and  call'd, 

"  Who  spake  ?     A  dream.     O  light  upon  the  wind, 

Thine,  Gawain,  was  the  voice  —  are  these  dim  cries 

Thine  ?  or  doth  all  that  haunts  the  waste  and  wild 

Mourn,  knowing  it  will  go  along  with  me  ?  " 

This  heard  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere  and  spake,  — 
"  0  me,  my  king,  let  pass  whatever  will, 
Elves,  and  the  harmless  glamour  of  the  field  ; 
But  in  their  stead  thy  name  and  glory  cling 
To  all  high  places  like  a  golden  cloud 


THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR.  125 

Forever :  but  as  yet  tbou  shalt  not  pass. 

Light  was  Gawain  in  life,  and  light  in  death 

Is  Gawain,  for  the  ghost  is  as  the  man  ; 

And  care  not  thou  for  dreams  from  him,  but  rise  — 

I  hear  the  steps  of  Modred  in  the  west, 

And  with  him  many  of  thy  people,  and  knights 

Once  thine,  whom  thou  hast  loved,  but  grosser  grown 

Than  heathen,  spitting  at  their  vows  and  thee* 

Eight  well  in  heart  they  know  thee  for  the  king. 

Arise,  go  forth  and  conquer  as  of  old." 

Then  spake  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Bedivere,  — 
"  Far  other  is  this  battle  in  the  West 
Whereto  we  move,  than  when  we  strove  in  youth, 
And  thrust  the  heathen  from  the  Roman  wall, 
And  shook  him  thro'  the  north.     Ill  doom  is  mine 
To  war  against  my  people  and  my  knights, 
The  king  who  fights  his  people  fights  himself. 
And    they  my    knights  who  loved  me  once  the  stroke 


126  THE    PASSING    OF   ARTHUR. 

That  strikes  them  dead  is  as  my  death  to  me. 
Yet  let  us  hence,  and  find  or  feel  a  way 
Thro'  this  blind  haze,  which  ever  since  I  saw 
Onejjing  in  the  dust  at  Almesbury, 
Hath  folded  in  the  passes  of  the  world." 

Then  rose  the  king  and  moved  his  host  by  night, 
And  ever  push'd  Sir  Modred,  league  by  league. 
Back  to  the  sunset  bound  of  Lyonnesse,  — 
A  land  of  old  upheaven  from  the  abyss 
By  fire,  to  sink  into  the  abyss  again ; 
Where  fragments  of  forgotten  peoples  dwelt, 
And  the  long  mountain  ended  in  a  coast 
Of  ever-shifting  sand,  and  far  away 
The  phantom  circle  of  a  moaning  sea. 
There  the  pursuer  could  pursue  no  more, 
And  he  that  fled  no  further  fly  the  king ; 
And  there,  that  day  when  the  great  light  of  heaven 
Burn'd  at  his  lowest  in  the  rolling  year, 
On  the  waste  sand  by  the  waste  sea  they  closed. 


THE    PASSING    OF   ARTHUR.  127 

Nor  ever  yet  had  Arthur  fought  a  fight 

•%n     ii   „,. .^__^a^ 

Like  this  last,  dim,  weird  battle  of  the  West. 

A  death-white  mist  slept  over  sand  and  sea: 

Whereof  the  chill,  to  him  who  breathed  it,  drew 

Down  with  his  blood,  till  all  his  heart  was  cold 

With  formless  fear,  and  ev'n  on  Arthur  fell 

Confusion,  since  he  saw  not  whom  he  fought, 

For  friend  and  foe  were  shadows  in  the  mist, 

And  friend  slew  friend  not  knowing  whom  he  slew ; 

And  some  had  visions  out  of  golden  youth, 

And  some  beheld  the  faces  of  old  ghosts 

Look  in  upon  the  battle  ;  and  in  the  mist 

Was  many  a  noble  deed,  many  a  base, 

And  chance  and  craft  and  strength  in  single  fights, 

And  ever  and  anon  with  host  to  host 

Shocks,  and  the  splintering  spear,  the  hard  mail  hewn, 

Shield-breakings,  and  the  clash  of  brands,  the  crash 

Of  battle-axes  on  shatter'd  helms,  and  shrieks 

After  the  Christ,  of  those  who  falling  down 

Looked  up  for  heaven,  and  only  saw  the  mist ; 


128  THE    PASSING    OF   ARTHUR. 

And  shouts  of  heathen  and  the  traitor  knights, 
Oaths,  insult,  filth,  and  monstrous  blasphemies, 
Sweat,  writhings,  anguish,  laboring  of  the  lungs 
In  that  close  mist,  and  cryings  for  the  light, 
Moans  of  the  dying  and  voices  of  the  dead. 

Last  as  by  some  one  death-bed,  after  wail 
Of  suffering,  silence  follows,  or  thro'  death 
Or  deathlike  swoon,  thus  over  all  that  shore, 
Save  for  some  whisper  of  the  seething  seas, 
A  dead  hush  fell ;  but  when  the  dolorous  day 
Grew  drearier  toward  twilight  falling,  came 
A  bitter  wind,  clear  from  the  North,  and  blew 
The  mist  aside,  and  with  that  wind  the  tide 
Rose,  and  the  pale  king  glanced  across  the  field 
Of  battle  ;  but  no  man  was  moving  there  ; 
Nor  any  cry  of  Christian  heard  thereon, 
Nor  yet  of  heathen  ;  only  the  wan  wave 
Brake  in  among  dead  faces,  to  and  fro 
Swaying  the  helpless  hands,  and  up  and  down 


THE    PASSING    OF   ARTHUR.  129 

\ 

Tumbling  the  hollow  helmets  of  the  fallen, 

And  shiver'd  brands  that  once  had  fought  with  Rome, 

And  rolling  far  along  the  gloomy  shores 

The  voice  of  days  of  old  and  days  to  be. 

Then  spake  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Bedivere, 
And  whiter  than  the  mist'  that  all  day  long 
Had  held  the  field  of  battle) was  the  king. 

/' 

"  Hearest  thou  this  great  voice  that  shakes  the  world, 
And  wastes  the  narrow  realm  whereon  we  move, 
And  beats  upon  the  faces  of  the  dead, 
My  dead,  as  tho'  they  had  not  died  for  me  ?  — 
O  Bedivere,  for  on  my  heart  hath  falPn 
Confusion,  till  I  know  not  what  I  am, 
Nor  whence  I  am,  nor  whether  I  be  king. 
Behold,  I  seem  but  king  among  the  dead." 

Then  spake  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere,  "  My  king, 
King  everywhere !  and  so  the  dead  have  kings, 
6*  i 


130  THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR. 

There  also  will  I  worship  thec  as  king. 

Yet  still  thy  life  is  whole,  and  still  I  live 

Who  love  thee  ;  but  who  hates  thee,  he  that  brought 

The  heathen  back  among  us,  yonder  stands, 

Modred,  unharm'd,  the  traitor  of  thine  house." 

Then  spake  the  King,  "  My  house  hath  been  ray  doom* 
But  call  not  thou  this  traitor  of  my  house 
Who  hath  but  dwelt  beneath  one  roof  with  me. 
My  house  are  rather  they  who  sware  my  vows, 
Yea,  even  while  they  brake  them,  own'd  me  king. 
'And  well  for  thee,  saying  in  my  dark  hour, 
When  all  the  purport  of  my  throne  hath  fail'd, 
That  quitk  or  dead  thou  boldest  me  for  king. 
King  am*!,  whatsoever  be  their  cry  ; 
And  one  last  act  of  kinghood  shalt  thou  see 
Yet  ere  I  pass."     And,  uttering  this,  the  king 
Made  at  the  man  :  then  Modred  smote  his  liege 
Hard  on  that  helm,  which  many  a  heathen  sword 
Had  beaten  thin,  while  Arthur  at  one  blow 


THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR.  131 

Striking  the  last  stroke  with  Excalibur, 
Slew  him,  and  all  but  slain  himself  he  fell. 

So  all  day  long  the  noise  of  battle  roll'd 
Among  the  mountains  by  the  winter  sea; 
Until  King  Arthur's  table,  man  by  man, 
Had  fall'n  in  Lyonriesse  about  their  lord, 
King  Arthur :  then,  because  his  wound  was  deep, 
The  bold  Sir  Bedivere  uplifted  him, 
And  bore  him  to  a  chapel  nigh  the  field, 
A  broken  chancel  with  a  broken  cross, 
That  stood  on  a  dark  strait  of  barren  land. 
On  one  side  lay  the  Ocean,  and  on  one 
Lay  a  great  water,  and  the  moon  was  full 

Then  spake  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Bedivere : 
"  The  sequel  of  to-day  unsolders  all 
The  goodliest  fellowship  of  famous  knights 
"Whereof  this  world  holds  record.     Such  a  sleep 
They  sleep  —  the  men  I  loved.     I  think  that  we 


132  THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR. 

Shall  never  more,  at  any  future  time, 

Delight  our  souls  with  talk  of  knightly  deeds, 

Walking  about  the  gardens  and  the  halls 

Of  Camelot,  as  in  the  days  that  were. 

I  perish  by  this  people  which  I  made,  — 

Tho'  Merlin  sware  that  I  should  come  again 

To  rule  once  more  —  but  let  what  will  be,  be, 

I  am  so  deeply  smitten  thro'  the  helm 

That  without  help  I  cannot  last  till  morn. 

Thou  therefore  take  my  brand  Excalibur, 

Which  was  my  pride :  for  thou  rememberest  how 

In  those  old  days,  one  summer  noop,  an  arm 

Rose  up  from  out  the  bosom  of  the  lake, 

Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful, 

Holding  the  sword  —  and  how  I  row'd  across 

And  took  it,  and  have  worn  it,  like  a  king : 

And,  wheresoever  I  am  sung  or  told 

In  after-time,  this  also  shall  be  known : 

But  now  delay  not :  take  Excalibur, 

And  fling  him  far  into  the  middle  mere : 

Watch  what  thou  seest,  and  lightly  bring  me  word." 


THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR.  133 

To  him  replied  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere : 
"  It  is  not  meet,  Sir  King,  to  leave  thee  thus, 
Aidless,  alone,  and  smitten  thro'  the  helm. 
A  little  thing  may  harm  a  wounded  man. 
Yet  I  thy  hest  will  all  perform  at  full, 
Watch  what  I  see,  and  lightly  bring  thee  word." 

So  saying,  from  the  ruin'd  shrine  he  stept 
And  in  the  moon  athwart  the  place  of  tombs, 
Where  lay  the  mighty  bcnes  of  ancient  men, 
Old  knights,  and  over  them  the  sea-wind  sang 
Shrill,  chill,  with  flakes  of  foam.     He,  stepping  down 
By  zigzag  paths,  and  juts  of  pointed  rock, 
Came  on  the  shining  levels  of  the  lake. 

ij 

There  drew  he  forth  the  brand  Excalibur, 
And  o'er  him,  drawing  it,  the  winter  moon, 
Brightening  the  skirts  of  a  long  cloud,  ran  forth 
And  sparkled  keen  with  frost  against  the  hilt : 
For  all  the  haft  twinkled  with  diamond  sparks,     ^» 


134  THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR. 

Myriads  of  topaz-lights,  and  jacinth- work 
Of  subtlest  jewelry.     He  gazed  so  long 
That  both  his  eyes  were  dazzled,  as  he  stood, 
This  way  and  that  dividing  the  swift  mind, 
In  act  to  throw  :  but  at  the  last  it  seem'd 
Better  to  leave  Excalibur  conceal'd 
There  in  the  many-knotted  water-flags, 
That  whistled  stiff  and  dry  about  the  marge. 
So  strode  he  back  slow  to  the  wounded  king.  *• 

Then  spake  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Bedivere : 
"  Hast  thou  perform'd  my  mission  which  I  gave  ? 
What  is  it  thou  hast  seen  ?  or  what  hast  heard  ?  " 

And  answer  made  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere  : 
"  I  heard  the  ripple  washing  in  the  reeds, 
And  the  wild  water  lapping  on  the  crag." 

To  whom  replied  King  Arthur,  faint  and  pale : 
"  Thou  hast  betray 'd  thy  nature  and  thy  name, 


THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR.  135 

Not  rendering  true  answer,  as  beseem'd 
Thy  fealty,  nor  like  a  noble  knight : 
For  surer  sign  had  follow'd,  either  hand, 
Or  voice,  or  else  a  motion  of  the  mere. 
This  is  a  shameful  thing  for  men  to  lie. 
Yet  now,  I  charge  thee,  quickly  go  again 
As  thou  art  lief  and  dear,  and  do  the  thing 
I  bade  thee,  watch,  and  lightly  bring  me  word." 

Then  went  Sir  Bedivere  the  second  time 
Across  the  ridge,  and  paced  beside  the  mere, 
Counting  the  dewy  pebbles,  fix'd  in  thought ; 
But  when  he  saw  the  wonder  of  the  hilt, 
How  curiously  and  strangely  chased,  he  smote 
His  palms  together,  and  he  cried  aloud  :  — • 

"  And  if  indeed  I  cast  the  brand  away, 
Surely  a  precious  thing,  one  worthy  note, 
Should  thus  be  lost  forever  from  the  earth, 
Which  might  have  pleased  the  eyes  of  many  men. 


136  THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR. 

What  good  should  follow  this,  if  this  were  done  ? 

What  harm,  undone  ?  deep  harm  to  disobey, 

Seeing  obedience  is  the  bond  of  rule. 

Were  it  well  to  obey  then,  if  a  king  demand 

An  act  unprofitable,  against  himself? 

The  king  is  sick,  and  knows  not  what  he  does. 

What  record,  or  what  relic  of  my  lord 

Should  be  to  after-time,  but  empty  breath 

And  rumors  of  a  doubt  ?  but  were  this  kept, 

Stored  in  some  treasure-house  of  mighty  kings, 

Some  one  might  show  it  at  a  joust  of  arms, 

Saying,  '  King  Arthur's  sword,  Excalibur, 

Wrought  by  the  lonely  maiden  of  the  Lake. 

Nine  years  she  wrought  it,  sitting  in  the  deeps 

Upon  the  hidden  bases  of  the  hills.'  / 

So  might  some  old  man  speak  in  the  after-time 

To  all  the  people,  winning  reverence. 

But  now  much  honor  and  much  fame  were  lost." 

So  spake  he,  clouded  with  his  own  conceit^ 


THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR.  137 

And  hid  Excalibur  the  second  time, 

And  so  strode  back  slow  to  the  wounded  king. 

Then  spoke  King  Arthur,  breathing  heavily : 
"  What  is  it  thou  hast  seen  ?  or  what  hast  heard  ?  " 

And  answer  made  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere : 
"  I  heard  the  water  lapping  on  the  crag, 
And  the  long  ripple  washing  in  the  reeds." 

To  whom  replied  King  Arthur,  much  in  wrath : 
"  Ah,  miserable  and  unkind,  untrue, 
Unknightly,  traitor -hearted !     Woe  is  me  ! 
Authority  forgets  a  dying  king, 
Laid  widow'd  of  the  power  in  his  eye 
That  bow'd  the  will.     I  see  thee  what  thou  art, 
For  thou,  the  latest-left  of  all  my  knights 
In  whom  should  meet  the  offices  of  all, 
\  Thou  wouldst  betray  me  for  the  precious  hilt ; 
Either  from  lust  of  gold,  or  like  a  girl 


138  THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR. 

Valuing  the  giddy  pleasure  of  the  eyes. 

Yet,  for  a  man  may  fail  in  duty  twice, 

And  the  third  time  may  prosper,  get  thee  hence : 

But,  if  thou  spare  to  fling  Excalibur, 

tijM^ 
I  will  arise  and  slay  thee  with  my  hands." 

Then  quickly  rose  Sir  Bedivere,  and  ran, 
And,  leaping  down  the  ridges  lightly,  plunged 
Among  the  bulrush-beds,  and  clutch'd  the  sword, 
And  strongly  wheel'd  and  threw  it.     The  great  brand 
Made  lightnings  in  the  splendor  of  the  moon, 
And  flashing  round  and  round,  and  whirl'd  in  an  arch, 
Shot  like  a  streamer  of  the  northern  morn, 
Seen  where  the  moving  isles  of  winter  shock 
By  night,  with  noises  of  the  northern  sea. 
So  flash'd  and  fell  the  brand  Excalibur : 

-aSa^/ 

But  ere  he  dipt  the  surface,  rose  an  arm 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful, 
And  caught  him  by  the  hilt,  and  brandish'd  him 
Three  times,  and  drew  him  under  in  the  mere.)  kA 
And  lightly  went  the  other  to  the  king. 


THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR.  139 

(Then  spoke  King  Arthur,  drawing  thicker  breath : 
"  Now  see  I  by  thine  eyes  that  this  is  done. 
Speak  out :  what  is  it  thou  hast  heard,  or  seen  ?  " 

And  answer  made  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere : 

s/\^ff^  -\  f .  j. 

"  Sir  King,  I  closed  mine  eyelids,  lest  the  gems 
Should  blind  my  purpose,  for  I  never  saw, 
Nor  shall  see,  here  or  elsewhere,  till  I  die, 
Not  tho'  I  live  three  lives  of  mortal  men, 
So  great  a  miracle  as  yonder  hilt. 
Then  with  both  hands  I  flung  him,  wheeling  him  ; 
But  when  I  look'd  again,  behold  an  arm, 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful, 
That  caught  him  by  the  hilt,  and  brandish' d  him 
Three  times,  and  drew  him  under  in  the  mere." 

And  answer  made  King  Arthur,  breathing  hard  : 
"  My  end  draws  nigh  ;  *t  is  time  that  I  were  gone. 
Make  broad  thy  shoulders  to  receive  my  weight, 
And  bear  me  to  the  margin  ;  yet  I  fear 
My  wound  hath  taken  cold,  and  I  shall  die." 


140  THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR. 

So  saying,  from  the  pavement  he  half  rose, 
Slowly,  with  pain,  reclining  on  his  arm, 
And  looking  wistfully  with  wide  blue  eyes 
As  in  a  picture.     Him  Sir  Bedivere 
Remorsefully  regarded  thro1  his  tears, 
And  would  have  spoken,  but  he  found  not  words, 
Then  took  with  care,  and  kneeling  on  one  knee, 
O'er  both  his  shoulders  drew  the  languid  hands, 

And  rising  bore  him  thro'  the  place  of  tombs. 

,•-  -% 

But,  as  he  walk'd,  King  Arthur  panted  hard, 
Like  one  that  feels  a  nightmare  on  his  bed 
When  all  the  house  is  mute.     So  sigh'd  the  king, 
Muttering  and  murmuring  at  his  ear,  "  Quick,  quick  ! 
I  fear  it  is  too  late,  and  I  shall  die."   r 
But  the  other  swiftly  strode  from  ridge  to  ridge, 
Clothed  with  his  breath,  and  looking,  as  he  walk'd, 
Larger  than  human  on  the  frozen  hills. 
He  heard  the  deep  behind  him,  and  a  cry 
Before.     His  own  thought  drove  him  like  a  goad. 


THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR.  141 

Dry  clash'd  his  harness  in  the  icy  caves 
And  barren  chasms,  and  all  to  left  and  right 
The  bare  black  cliff  clang'd  round  him,  as  he  based 
His  feet  on  juts  of  slippery  crag  that  rang 

i 

Sharp-smitten  with  the  dint  of -armed  heels  — 
And  on  a  sudden,  lo  !  the  level  lake, 
And  the  long  glories  of  the  winter  moon. 

Then  saw  they  how  there  hove  a  dusky  barge, 
Dark  as  a  funeral  scarf  from  stem  to  stern, 
Beneath  them ;  and  descending  they  were  ware 
That  all  the  decks  were  dense  with  stately  forms 
Black-stoled,  black-hooded,  like  a  dream  —  by  these 
Three   Queens  with  crowns  of  gold  —  and  from  them 

rose 

A  cry  that  shiver'd  to  the  tingling  stars, 
And,  as  it  were  one  voice,  an  agony 
Of  lamentation,  like  a  wind  that  shrills 
All  night  in  a  waste  land,  where  no  one  comes, 
Or  hath  come,  since  the  making  of  the  world. 


142  THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR. 

Then  murmur'd  Arthur,  "  Place  me  in  the  barge," 
So  to  the  barge  they  came.     There  those  three  Queens 
Put  forth  their  hands,  and  took  the  king,  and  wept. 
But  she,  that  rose  the  tallest  of  them  all 
And  fairest,  laid  his  head  upon  her  lap, 
And  loosed  the  shattered  casque,  and  chafed  his  hands, 
And  call'd  him  by  his  name,  complaining  loud, 
And  dropping  bitter  tears  against  his  brow 
Striped  with  dark  blood :  for  all  his  face  was  white 
And  colorless,  and  like  the  withered  moon 
Smote  by  the  fresh  beam  of  the  springing  east ; 
And  all  his  greaves  and  cuisses  dash'd  with  drops 
Of  onset ;  and  the  light  and  lustrous  curls  — 
That  made  his  forehead  like  a  rising  sun 
High  from  the  dais-throne  —  were  parch' d  with  dust ; 
Or,  clotted  into  points  and  hanging  loose, 
Mix'd  with  the  knightly  growth  that  fringed  his  lips. 
So  like  a  shatter'd  column  lay  the  king ; 
Not  like  that  Arthur  who,  with  lance  in  rest, 
From  spur  to  plume  a  star  of  tournament, 


THE    PASSING    OF   ARTHUR.  143 

Shot  thro*  the  lists  at  Camelot,  and  charged 
Before  the  eyes  of  ladies  and  of  kings. 

Then  loudly  cried  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere, 
"  Ah  !  nay  Lord  Arthur,  whither  shall  I  go  ?   ^tx^occ-*-- 
Where  shall  I  hide  my  forehead  and  my  eyes  ? 
For  now  I  see  the  true  old  times  are  dead, 
When  every  morning  brought  a  noble  chance, 
And  every  chance  brought  out  a  noble  knight. 
Such  times  have  been  not  since  the  light  that  led 
The  holy  Elders  with  the  gift  of  myrrh. 
But  now  the  whole  ROUND  TABLE  is  dissolved, 
Which  was  an  image  of  the  mighty  world ;     '  v 
And  I,  the  last,  go  forth  companionless, 
And  the  days  darken  round  me,  and  the  years, 
Among  new  men,  strange  faces,  other  minds." 

And  slowly  answered  Arthur  from  the  barge : 
"  The  old  order  changeth,  yielding  place  to  new, 
And  God  fulfils  himself  in  many  ways, 


144  THE    PASSING    OF   ARTHUR. 

Lest  one  good  custom  should  corrupt  the  world. 
/  Comfort  thyself :  what  comfort  is  in  me  ? 
I  have  lived  my  life,  and  that  which  I  have  done 
May  He  within  himself  make  pure !  but  thou, 
If  thou  shouldst  never  see  my  face  again, 
Pray  for  my  soul.     More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 
Than  this  world  dreams  of.     Wherefore,  let  thy  voice 
Rise  like  a  fountain  for  me  night  and  day. 
For  what  are  men  better  than  sheep  or  goats 
That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  brain, 
If,  knowing  God,  they  lift  not  hands  of  prayer 

Both  for  themselves  and  those  who  call  them  friend  ? 

J 
For  so  the  whole  round  earth  is  every  way 

Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God. 
But  now  farewell.     I  am  going  a  long  way 
With  these  thou  seest  —  if  indeed  I  go  — 
(For  all  my  mind  is  clouded  with  a  doubt) 
To  the  island-valley  of  Avilion ; 
Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  snow, 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly ;  -but  it  lies 


THE    PASSING    OF    ARTHUR. 

/r     >'         v* 
Deep-meadow'd,  happy,  fair  with  orchaJWftflM  "^  12  &  S  * 

And  bowery  hollows  crown'd  with  summ^r^y  *  TT?AT\^S 
Where  I  will  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound?*" 

So  said  he,  and  the  barge  with  oar  and  sail 
Moved  from  the  brink,  like  some  full-breasted  swan 
That,  fluting  a  wild  carol  ere  her  death, 

Ruffles  her  pure  cold  plume,  and  takes  the  flood 

•' 
With  swarthy  webs.     Long  stood  Sir  Bedivere 

Revolving  many  memories,  till  the  hull 

Look'd  one  black  dot  against  the  verge  of  dawn, 

And  on  the  mere  the  wailing  died  away. 

At  length  he  groan'd,  and  turning  slowly  clomb 
The  last  hard  footstep  of  that  iron  crag  ; 
Thence  mark'd  the  black  hull  moving  yet,  and  cried, 
"  He  passes  to  be  king  among  the  dead, 
And  after  healing  of  his  grievous  wound 
He  comes  again  ;  but  — jif  he  come  no  more  •*- 
O  me,  be  yon  dark  Queens  in  yon  black  boat, 
7 


146  THE   PASSING    OF   ARTHUR. 

Who  sliriek'd  and  wail'd,  the  three  whereat  we  gazed 
On  that  high  day,  when, clothed  with  living  light, 
They  stood  before  his  throne  in  silence,  friends 
Of  Arthur,  who  should  help  him  at  his  need  ?  " 

x 

Then  from  the  da'wn  it  seem'd  there  came,  but  faint 

As  from  beyond  the  limit  of  the  world, 
Like  the  last  echo  born  of  a  great  cry, 
Sounds,  as  if  some  fair  city  wyere  one  voice 
Around  a  king  returning  from  his  wars. 

Thereat  once  more  he  moved  about,  and  clomb 
E'en  to  the  highest  he  could  climb,  and  saw, 
Straining  his  eyes  beneath  an  arch  of  hand, 
Or  thought  he  saw,  the  speck  that  bare  the  king, 
Down  that  long  water  opening  on  the  deep 
Somewhere  far  off,  pass  on  and  on,  and  go 
From  less  to  less  and  vanish  into  light. 
And  the  new  sun  rose  bringing  the  new  year. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


THE    NORTHERN    FARMER. 


NEW   STYLE. 


DOSN'T  thou  'ear  my  'erse's  legs,  as  they  canters  awaay  ? 
Proputty,  proputty,  proputty  —  that  's  what  I  'ears  'em 

saay. 
Proputty,  proputty,  proputty  —  Sam,  thou  's  an  ass  for 

thy  paains  ; 
Theer's  moor  sense   i'   one  o'  'is  legs  nor  in  all  thy 

braains. 

ii. 
Woa  —  theer  's  a  craw  to  pluck  wi'  tha,  Sam :  yon 's 

parson's  'ouse  — 
Dosn't  thou  knaw  that  a  man  mun  be  eather  a  man  or 

a  mouse? 


150  THE  NORTHERN  FARMER. 

Time   to   think   on   it  then ;  for  thou  '11  be  twenty  to 

weeak.* 
Proputty,    proputty  —  woa    then   woa  —  let   ma   'ear 

mysen  speak. 

in. 

Me  an'  thy  muther,  Sammy,  'as  bean  a-talkin'  o'  thee ; 

Thou  's  been  talkin'  to  muther,  an*  she  bean  a  tellin'  it 
me. 

Thou  '11  not  marry  for  munny  —  thou  's  sweet  upo'  par 
son's  lass  — 

Noa  —  thou '11  marry  fur  luvv  —  an'  we  boath  on  us 
thinks  tha  an  ass. 

IV. 

Seea'd  her  todaay  goa  by  —  Saaint's-daay —  thay  was 

ringing  the  bells. 

She  's  a  beauty  thou  thinks  —  an'  soa  is  scoors  o'  gells, 
Them  as  'as  muriny  an'  all  —  wot  's  a  beauty  ?  —  the 

flower  as  blaws. 
But  proputty,  proputty    sticks,  an*  proputty,  proputty 

graws. 

*  This  week. 


THE  NORTHERN  FARMER.          151 
V. 

Do'ant  be  stunt  * :  taake  time :  I  knaws  what  maakes 

tha  sa  mad. 

Warn't  I  craazed  fur  the  lasses  my  sen  when  I  wur  a  lad  ? 
But  I  knaw'd  a  Quaaker  feller  as  often  'as  towd  ma  this  : 
4i  Doant  thou  marry  for  munny,  but  goa  wheer  munny 


vi.      ' 
An'  I  went  wheer  munny  war :  an'  thy  mother  coom  to 

'and, 

Wi'  lots  o'  munny  laaid  by,  an'  a  nicetish  bit  o'  land. 
Maaybe  she  warn't  a  beauty  :  —  I  niver  giv  it  a  thowt  — 
But  warn't  she  as  good  to  cuddle  an'  kiss  as  a  lass  as 

'ant  nowt  ? 

VII. 

Parson's  lass  'ant  nowt,  an'  she  weant  'a  nowt  when  'e  's 

dead, 
Mun  be  a  guvness,  lad,  or  summut,  and  addle  t  her  bread  : 

*  Obstinate.  t  Earn, 


V 
152  THE  NORTHERN  FARMER. 


Why  ?  fur  'e  's  nobbut  a  curate,  an'  weant  nivir  git  naw 

'igher ; 
An'  'e  maade  the  bed  as  'e  ligs  on  afoor  'e  coom'd  to 

tjie  shire. 

VIII. 

And  thin  'e  coom'd  to  the  parish  wi'  lots  o'  'Varsity  debt, 

Stook  to  his  taail  they  did,  an'  'e  'ant  got  shut  on  'era  yet. 

An'  'e  ligs  on  'is  back  i'  the  grip,  wi'  noan  to  lend  'im  a 
shove, 

Woorse  nor  a  far-welter'd  *  yowe :  fur,  Sammy,  'e  mar 
ried  fur  luvv. 

IX. 

Luvv  ?  what 's   luvv  ?  thoii   can  luvv  thy   lass  an'  'er 

munny  too, 

Maakin'  'em  goa  togither  as  they  've  good  right  to  do. 
Could'n  I  luvv  thy  muther  by  cause  o'  'er  munny  laaid 

by? 
Naay  —  fur  I  luvv'd  'er  a  vast  sight  moor  fur  it :  reason 

why. 

*  Or  fow-welter'd  —  said  of  a  sheep  lying  on  its  back  in  the  furrow. 


THE   NORTHERN    FARMER.  *          153 

X. 

Ay,  an'  thy  muther  says  thou  wants  to  marry  the  lass, 
Cooms  of  a  gentleman  burn :  an'  we  boath  on  us  thinks 

tha  an  ass. 
Woa  then,  proputty,  wiltha  ?  —  an  ass  as  near  as  mays 

nowt  —  * 
Woa  then,  wiltha  ?  dangtha !  —  the  bees  is  as  fell  as  owt.f 

XI. 

Break  me  a  bit  o'  the  esh  for  his  'ead,  lad,  out  o'  the  fence! 
Gentleman  burn !  what 's  gentleman  burn  ?  is  it  shillins 

an'  pence  ? 
Proputty,  proputty  's  ivrything  'ere,  an',  Sammy,  I  'm 

blest 
If  it  is  n't  the  saiime  oop  yonder,  fur  them  as  'as  it 's  the 

best. 

XII. 

Tis'n  them  as  'as  munny  as  breaks  into  'ouses  an'  steals, 
Them  as  'as  coats  to  their  backs  an'  taakes  their  regular 
meals. 

*  Makes  nothing.  t  The  flies  are  as  fi^ce  as  anything. 


154  THE  NORTHERN  FARMER. 

Noa,  but  it 's  them  as  niver  knaws  wheer  a  meal  's  to 

be  'ad. 
Taake  my  word  for  it,  Sammy,  the  poor  in  a  loomp  is 

bad. 

xm. 
Them  or  thir  feythers,  tha  sees,  mun  'a  bean  a  laazy 

lot, 
Fur  work  mun  'a  gone  to  the  gittin'  whiniver  munny 

was  got. 

Feyther  'ad  ammost  nowt ;  leastwaays  'is  munny  was  'id. 
But  'e  tued  an'  moil'd  'issen  dead,  an  'e  died  a  good  un,  'e 

did. 

XIV. 

Loook  thou  theer  wheer  Wrigglesby  beck  comes  out  by 

the  'ill ! 

Feyther  run  up  to  the  farm,  an'  I  runs  up  to  the  mill ; 
An'  I'll  run  up  to  the  brig,  an'  that  thou  '11  live  to  see  ; 
And  if  thou  marries  a  good  un4  I  '11  leave  the  land  to 

thee.    • 


THE   NORTHERN    FARMER.  155 

XV. 

Thim  's  my  noations,  Sammy,  wheerby  I  means  to  stick ; 
But  if  thou  marries  a  bad  un,  I  '11  leave  the  land  to 

Dick.  — 
Coom  oop,  proputty,  proputty  —  that 's  what  I  'ears  'ina 


Proputty,  proputty,  proputty  —  canter  an'  canter  awaay. 


THE    VICTIM. 


i. 

A  PLAGUE  upon  the  people  fell, 
A  famine  after  laid  them  low, 
Then  thorpe  and  byre  arose  in  fire, 

For  on  them  brake  the  sudden  foe ; 
So  thick  they  died  the  people  cried 

"  The  Gods  are  moved  against  the  land.': 
The  Priest  in  horror  about  his  altar 
To  Thor  and  Odin  lifted  a  hand : 
"  Help  us  from  famine 
And  plague  and  strife ! 
What  would  you  have  of  us  ? 


THE   VICTIM.  157 

Human  life  ? 
Were  it  our  nearest, 
Were  it  our  dearest, 
(Answer,  O  answer) 
We  give  you  his  life." 

n. 
But  still  the  foeman  spoil'd  and  burn'd, 

And  cattle  died,  and  deer  in  wood, 
And  bird  in  air,  and  fishes  turn'd 

And  whiten'd  all  the  rolling  flood  ; 
And  dead  men  lay  all  over  the  way, 

Or  down  in  a  furrow  scathed  with  flame  : 
And  ever  and  aye  the  Priesthood  moan'd 
Till  at  last  it  seem'd  that  an  answer  came  : 
"  The  King  is  happy 
In  child  and  wife  ; 
Take  you  his  dearest, 
Give  us^  a  life." 


1~>8  THE   VICTIM. 

III. 

The  Priest  Went  out  by  heath  and  hill ; 

The  King  was  hunting  in  the  wild ; 
They  found  the  mother  sitting  still ; 
She  cast  her  arms  about  the  child. 
The  child  was  only  eight  summers  old, 

His  beauty  still  with  his  years  increased, 
His  face  was  ruddy,  his  hair  was  gold, 
He  seem'd  a  victim  due  to  the  priest. 
The  Priest  beheld  him, 
And  cried  with  joy, 
"  The  Gods  have  answer'd: 
We  give  them  the  boy." 

IV. 

The  King  returned  from  out  the  wild, 
He  bore  but  little  game  in  hand ; 

The  mother  said :  "  They  have  taken  the  child 
To  spill  his  blood  and  heal,  the  land  : 

The  land  is  sick,  the  people  diseased, 
And  blight  and  famine  on  all  the  lea : 


THE    VICTIM.  159 

The  holy  Gods,  they  must  be  appeased, 
So  I  pray  you  tell  the  truth  to  me. 
They  have  taken  our  son, 
They  will  have  his  life. 
Is  he  your  dearest  ? 
Or  I,  the  wife?" 

v. 

The  King  bent  low,  with  hand  on  brow, 

He  stay'd  his  arms  upon  his  knee : 
"  O  wife,  what  use  to  answer  now  ? 

For  now  the  Priest  has  judged  for  me." 
The  King  was  shaken  with  holy  fear ; 

"  The  Gods,"  he  said,  "  would  have  chosen  well ; 
Yet  both  are  near,  and  both  are  dear, 
And  which  the  dearest  I  cannot  tell ! " 
But  the  Priest  was  happy, 
His  victim  won : 
"  We  have  his  dearest, 
His  only  son  !  " 


160  THE    VICTIM. 

VI. 

The  rites  prepared,  the  victim  bared, 

The  knife"  uprising  toward  the  blow, 
To  the  altar-stone  she  sprang  alone, 

"  Me,  not  my  darling,  no  !  " 
He  caught  her  away  with  a  sudden  cry  ; 

Suddenly  from  him  brake  his  wife, 
And  shrieking  "  /am  his  dearest,  I  — 
/  am  his  dearest !  "  rush'd  on  the  knife. 
And  the  Priest  was  happy, 
"  O,  Father  Odin, 
We  give  you  a  life. 
Which  was  his  nearest  ? 
Who  was  his  dearest  ? 
The  Gods  have  answer'd ; 
We  give  them  the  wife !  " 


WAGES. 


GLORY  of  warrior,  glory  of  orator,  glory  of  song, 

Paid  with  a  voice  flying  by  to  be  lost  on  an  endless 

sea  — 
Glory   of  Virtue,   to   fight,   to   struggle,    to   right   the 

wrong  — 
Nay,  but  she  aim'd  not  at  glory,  no  lover  of  glory 

she : 
Give  her  the  glory  of  going  on,  and  still  to  be. 

The  wages  of  sin  is  death :  if  the  wages  of  Virtue  be 

dust, 

""Would  she  have  heart  to  endure  for  the  life  of  the 
worm  and  the  fly? 

K 


162 


WAGES. 


She  desires  no  isles  of  the  blest,  no  quiet  seats  of  the 

just, 
To  rest  in  a  golden  grove,  or  to  bask  in  a  summer 

sky: 
Give  her  the  wages  of  going  on,  and  not  to  die. 


THE  HIGHER  PANTHEISM. 


THE  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  the  seas,  the  hills  and 

the  plains  — 
Are  not  these,  O  Soul,  the  Vision  of  Him  who  reigns  ? 

Is  not  the  Vision  He  ?  tho5  He  be  not  that  which  He 

seems  ? 
Dreams  are  true  while  they  last,  and  do  we  not  live  in 

dreams  ? 

Earth,  these  solid  stars,  this  weight  of  body  and  limb, 
Are   they  not  sign  and  symbol  of  thy   division   from 
Him? 

Dark  is  the  world  to  thee  :  thyself  art  the  reason  why  ; 
For  is  He  not  all  but  thou,  that  hast  power   to  feel 
"I  am  I!" 


164  THE   HIGHER   PANTHEISM. 

Glory  about  thee,  without  thee :  and  tbou  fulfillest  thy 

doom, 
Making  Him  broken  gleams,  and  a  stifled  splendor  and 

gloom. 

Speak  to  Him  thou  for  He  hears,  and  Spirit  with  Spirit 

can  meet  — 
Closer  is  He  than  breathing,  and  nearer  than  hands  and 

feet. 

God  is  law,  say  the  wise,  O  Soul,  and  let  us  rejoice, 
For  if  He  thunder  by  law  the  thunder  is  yet  His  voice. 

Law  is  God,  say  some :  no  God  at  all,  says  the  fool ; 
For  all  we  have  power  to  see  is  a  straight  staff  bent  in 
a  pool ; 

And  the  ear  of  man  cannot  hear,  and  the  eye  of  man 

cannot  see ; 
But  if  we  could  see  and  hear,  this  Vision  —  were  it  not 

He?  4 


FLOWER  in  the  crannied  wall, 
I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies ;  — 
Hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand, 
Little  flower — but  if  I  could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 
I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is. 


LUCRETIUS. 


LUCILIA,  wedded  to  Lucretius,  found 
Her  master  cold  ;  for  when  the  morning  flush 
Of  passion  and  the  first  embrace  had  died 
Between  them,  tho'  he  loved  her  none  the  less, 
Yet  often  when  the  woman  heard  his  foot 
Return  from  pacings  in  the  field,  and  ran 
To  greet  him  with  a  kiss,  the  master  took 
Small  notice,  or  austerely,  for  —  his  mind 
Half  buried  in  some  weightier  argument, 
Or  fancy -borne  perhaps  upon  the  rise 
And  long  roll  of  the  Hexameter  —  he  past 
To  turn  and  ponder  those  three  hundred  scrolls 
Left  by  the  Teacher  whom  he  held  divine. 


LUCRETIUS.  167 

She  brook'd  it  not ;  but  wrathful,  petulant. 
Dreaming  some  rival,  sought  and  found  a  witch 
Who  brew'd  the  philter  which  had  power,  they  said, 
To  lead  an  errant  passion  home  again. 
And  this,  at  times,  she  mingled  with  his  drink, 
And  this  destroy'd  him  ;  for  the  wicked  broth 
Confused  the  chemic  labor  of  the  blood, 
And  tickling  the  brute  brain  within  the  man's 
Made  havoc  among  those  tender  cells,  and  check'd 
His  power  to  shape  :  he  loath'd  himself ;  and  once 
After  a  tempest  woke  upon  a  morn 
That  mock'd  him  with  returning  calm,  and  cried.7 

"  Storm  in  the  night !  for  thrice  I  heard  the  rain  - 
Rushing ;  and  once  the  flash  of  a  thunderbolt  — 
Methought  I  never  saw  so  fierce  a  fork  — 
Struck  out  the  streaming  mountain-side,  and  show'd 
A  riotous  confluence  of  watercourses 
Blanching  and  billowing  in  a  hollow  of  it, 
Where  all  but  yester-eve  was  dusty-dry. 


168  LUCRETIUS. 

"  Storm,  and  what  dreams,  ye  holy  Gods,  what  dreams  ! 
For  thrice  I  waken'd  after  dreams.     Perchance 
We  do  but  recollect  the  dreams  that  come 
Just  ere  the  waking :  terrible  !  for  it  seem'd 
A  void  was  made  in  Nature  ;  all  her  bonds 
Crack'd  ;  and  I  saw  the  flaring  atom-streams 
And  torrents  of  her  myriad  universe, 
Ruining  along  the  illimitable  inane, 
Fly  on  to  clash  together  again,  and  make 
Another  and  another  frame  of  things 
Forever :  that  was  mine,  my  dream,  I  knew  it 
Of  and  belonging  to  me,  as  the  dog 
With  inward  yelp  and  restless  forefoot  plies 
His  function  of  the  woodland :  but  the  next ! 
I  thought  that  all  the  blood  by  Sylla  shed 
Came  driving  rainlike  down  again  on  earth, 
And  where  it  dash'd  the  reddening  meadow,  sprang 
No  dragon  warriors  from  Cadmean  teeth, 
For  these  I  thought  my  dream  would  show  to  me, 
But  girls,  Hetairai,  curious  in  their  art, 


LUCRETIUS.  169 

Hired  animalisms,  vile  as  those  that  made 

The  mulberry-faced  Dictator's  orgies  worse 

Than  aught  they  fable  of  the  quiet  Gods. 

And  hands  they  mixt,  and  yell'd  and  round  me  drove 

In  narrowing  circles  till  I  yell'd  again 

Half  suffocated,  and  sprang  up,  and  saw  — 

Was  it  the  first  beam  of  my  latest  day  ? 

"  Then,  then,  from  utter  gloom  stood  out  the  breastss 
The  breasts  of  Helen,  and  hoveringly  a  sword 
Now  over  and  now  under,  now  direct, 
Pointed  itself  to  pierce,  but  sank  down  shamed 
At  all  that  beauty  ;  and  as  I  stared,  a  fire, 
The  fire  that  left  a  roofless  Ilion, 
Shot  out  of  them,  and  scorch'd  me  that  I  woke 

"  Is  this  thy  vengeance,  holy  Venus,  thine, 
Because  I  would  not  one  of  thine  own  doves, 
Not  ev'n  a  rose,  were  offer' d  to  thee  ?  thine, 
Forgetful  how  my  rich  prooemion  makes 
8 


170  LUCRETIUS. 

Thy  glory  fly  along-  the  Italian  field, 
In  lays  that  will  outlast  thy  Deity  ? 

"  Deity  ?  nay,  thy  worshippers.     My  tongue 
Trips,  or  I  speak  profanely.     Which  of  these 
Angers  thee  most,  or  angers  thee  at  all  ? 
Not  if  thou  be'st  of  those  who  far  aloof 
Fom  envy,  hate  and  pity,  and  spite  and  scorn, 
Live  the  great  life  which  all  our  greatest  fain 
Would  follow,  centr'd  in  eternal  calm. 

"  Nay,  if  thou  canst,  O  Goddess,  like  ourselves 
Touch,  and  be  touch'd,  then  would  I  cry  to  thee 
To  kiss  thy  Mavors,  roll  thy  tender  arms 
Round  him,  and  keep  him  from  the  lust  of  blood 
That  makes  a  steaming  slaughter-house  of  Rome. 

"  Ay,  but  I  meant  not  thee ;  I  meant  not  her, 
Whom  all  the  pines  of  Ida  shook  to  see 
Slide  from  that  quiet  heaven  of  hers,  and  tempt 


LUCRETIUS.  171 

The  Trojan,  while  his  neat-herds  were  abroad ; 

Nor  her  that  o'er  her  wounded  hunter  wept 

Her  Deity  false  in  human-amorous  tears ; 

Nor  whom  her  beardless  apple-arbiter 

Decided  fairest.     Rather,  O  ye  Gods, 

Poet-like,  as  the  great  Sicilian  called 

Calliope  to  grace  his  golden  verse  — 

Ay,  and  this  Kypris  also  —  did  I  take 

That  popular  name  of  thine  to  shadow  forth. 

The  all-generating  powers  and  genial  heat 

Of  Nature,  when  she  strikes  through  the  thick  blood 

Of  cattle,  and  light  is  large  and  lambs  are  glad 

Nosing  the  mother's  udder,  and  the  bird 

Makes  his  heart  voice  amid  the  blaze  of  flowers 

Which  things  appear  the  work  of  mighty  Gods. 

"  The  Gods  !  and  if  I  go  my  work  is  left 
Unfinished  —  if  I  go.     The  Gods,  who  haunt 
The  lucid  interspace  of  world  and  world, 
Where  never  creeps  a  cloud,  or  moves  a  wind, 


172  LUCRETIUS. 

Nor  ever  falls  the  least  white  star  of  snow, 

Nor  ever  lowest  roll  of  thunder  moans, 

Nor  sound  of  human  sorrow  mounts  to  mar 

Their  sacred  everlasting  calm  !  and  such, 

Not  all  so  fine,  nor  so  divine  a  calm, 

Not  such,  nor  all  unlike  it,  man  may  gain 

Letting  his  own  life  go.     The  Gods,  the  Gods  1 

If  all  be  atoms,  how  then  should  the  Gods 

Being  atomic  not  be  dissoluble, 

Not  follow  the  great  law  ?     My  master  held 

That  Gods  there  are,  for  all  men  so  believe. 

I  prest  my  footsteps  into  his,  and  meant 

Surely  to  lead  my  Memmius  in  a  train 

Of  flowery  clauses  onward  to  the  proof 

That  Gods  there  are,  and  deathless.    Meant  ?   I  meant  ? 

I  have  forgotten  what  I  meant :  my  mind 

Stumbles,  and  all  my  faculties  are  lamed. 

"  Look  where  another  of  our  Gods,  the  Sun, 
Apollo,  Delius,  or  of  older  use 


LUCRETIUS.  173 

All-seeing  Hyperion  —  what  you  will  — 

Has  mounted  yonder ;  since  he  never  sware, 

Except  his  wrath'  were  wreak'd  on  wretched  man, 

That  he  would  only  shine  among  the  dead 

Hereafter  ;  tales  !  for  never  yet  on  earth 

Could  dead  flesh  creep,  or  bits  of  roasting  ox 

Moan  round  the  spit  —  nor  knows  he  what  he  sees  ; 

King  of  the  East  altho'  he  seem,  and  girt 

With  song  and  flame  and  fragrance,  slowly  lifts 

His  golden  feet  on  those  empurpled  stairs 

That  climb  into  the  windy  halls  of  heaven : 

And  here  he  glances  on  an  eye  new-born, 

And  gets  for  greeting  but  a  wail  of  pain ; 

And  here  he  stays  upon  a  freezing  orb 

That  fain  would  gaze  upon  him  to  the  last : 

And  here  upon  a  yellow  eyelid  fall'n 

And  closed  by  those  who  mourn  a  friend  in  vain, 

Not  thankful  that  his  troubles  are  no  more. 

And  me,  altho'  his  fire  is  on  my  face 

Blinding,  he  sees  not,  nor  at  all  can  tell 


174  LUCRETIUS. 

Whether  I  mean  this  day  to  end  myself, 

Or  lend  an  ear  to  Plato  where  he  says, 

That  men  like  soldiers  may  not  quit  the  post 

Allotted  by  the  Gods :  but  he  that  holds 

The  Gods  are  careless,  wherefore  need  he  care 

Greatly  for  them,  nor  rather  plunge  at  once, 

Being  troubled,  wholly  out  of  sight,  and  sink 

Past  earthquake  —  ay,  and  gout  and  stone,  that  break 

Body  toward  death,  and  palsy,  death-in-life, 

And  wretched  age  —  and  worst  disease  of  all, 

These  prodigies  of  myriad  nakednesses, 

And  twisted  shapes  x>f  lust,  unspeakable, 

Abominable,  strangers  at  my  hearth 

Not  welcome,  harpies  miring  every  dish, 

The  phantom  husks  of  something  foully  done, 

And  fleeting  thro'  the  boundless  universe, 

And  blasting  the  long  quiet  of  my  breast 

With  animal  heat  and  dire  insanity. 

"  How  should  the  mind,  except  it  loved  them,  clasp 


LUCRETIUS.  175 

These  idols  to  herself?  or  do  they  fly 

Now  thinner,  and  now  thicker,  like  the  flakes 

In  a  fall  of  snow,  and  so  press  in,  perforce 

Of  multitude,  as  crowds  that  in  an  hour 

Of  civic  tumult  jam  the  doors,  and  bear 

The  keepers  down,  and  throng,  their  rags  and  they, 

The  basest,  far  into  that  council-hall 

Where  sit  the  best  and  stateliest  of  the  land  ? 

"  Can  I  not  fling  this  horror  off  me  again, 
Seeing  with  how  great  ease  Nature  can  smile, 
Balmier  and  nobler  from  her  bath  of  storm, 
At  random  ravage  ?  and  how  easily 
The  mountain  there  has  cast  his  cloudy  slough, ' 
Now  towering  o'er  him  in  serenest  air, 
A  mountain  o'er  a  mountain,  -ay,  and  within 
All  hollow  as  the  hopes  and  fears  of  men* 

"  But  who  was  he,  that  in  the  garden  snared 
Picus  and  Faunus,  rustic  Gods  ?  a  tale 


176  LUCRETIUS. 

To  laugh  at — more  to  laugh  at  in  myself — 

For  look  !  what  is  it  ?  there  ?  yon  arbutus 

Totters ;  a  noiseless  riot  underneath 

Strikes  through  the  wood,  sets  all  the  tops  quivering  — 

The  mountain  quickens  into  Nymph  and  Faun ; 

And  here  an  Oread  —  how  the  sun  delights 

To  glance  and  shift  about  her  slippery  sides, 

And  rosy  knees  and  supple  roundedness, 

And  budded  bosom-peaks  —  who  this  way  runs 

Before  the  rest  —  A  satyr,  a  satyr,  see  — 

Follows  ;  but  him  I  proved  impossible  ; 

Twy-natured  is  no  nature  :  yet  he  draws 

Nearer  and  nearer,  and  I  scan  him  now 

Beastlier'  than  any  phantom  of  his  kind 

That  ever  butted  his  rough  brother-brute 

For  lust  or  lusty  blood  or  provender  : 

I  hate,  abhor,  spit,  sicken  at  him  ;  and  she 

Loathes  him  as  well ;  such  a  precipitate  heel, 

Fledged  as  it  were  with  Mercury's  ankle-wing, 

Whirls  her  to  me :  but  will  she  fling  herself, 


LUCRETIUS.  177 

Shameless  upon  me  ?     Catch  her,  goatfoot :  nay, 

Hide,  hide  them,  million-myrtled  wilderness, 

And  cavern-shadowing  laurels,  hide  !  do  I  wish  — 

What  ?  —  that  the  bush  were  leafless  ?  or  to  whelm 

All  of  them  in  one  massacre  ?     O  ye  Gods, 

I  know  you  careless,  yet,  behold,  to  you 

From  childly  wont  and  ancient  use  I  call  — 

I  thought  I  lived  securely  as  yourselves  — 

No  lewdness,  narrowing  envy,  monkey-spite, 

No  madness  of  ambition,  avarice,  none : 

No  larger  feast  that  under  plane  or  pine 

With  neighbors  laid  along  the  grass,  to  take 

Only  such  cups  as  left  us  friendly- warm, 

Affirming  each  his  own  philosophy  — 

Nothing  to  mar  the  sober  majesties 

Of  settled,  sweet,  Epicurean  life. 

But  now  it  seems  some  unseen  monster  lays 

His  vast  and  filthy  hands  upon  my  will, 

Wrenching  it  backward  into  his ;  and  spoils 

•t- 
My  bliss  in  being ;  and  it  was  not  great ; 

8*  L 


178  LUCRETIUS. 

For  save  when  shutting  reasons  up  in  rhythm, 
Or  Heliconian  honey  in  living  words, 
To  make  a  truth  less  harsh,  I  often  grew 
Tired  of  so  much  within  our  little  life, 
Or  of  so  little  in  our  little  life  — 
Poor  little  life  that  toddles  half  an  hour 
Crown'd  with  a  flower  or  two,  and  there  an  end  — 
And  since  the  nobler  pleasure  seems  to  fade, 
Why  should  I,  beastlike  as  I  find  myself, 
Not  manlike  end  myself  ?  —  our  privilege  — 
What  beast  has  heart  to  do  it  ?     And  what  man, 
What  Roman  would  be  dragg'd  in  triumph  thus  ? 
Not  I ;  not  he,  who  bears  one  name  with  her, 
Whose  death-blow  struck  the  dateless  doom  of  kings, 
When  brooking  not  the  Tarquin  in  her  veins, 
She  made  her  blood  in  sight  of  Collatine 
And  all  his  peers,  flushing  the  guiltless  air, 
Spout  from  the  maiden  fountain  in  her  heart. 
And  from  it  sprang  the  Commonwealth,  which  breaks 
•  As  I  am  breaking  now  ! 


LUCRETIUS.  179 

"  And  therefore  now 

Let  her,  that  is  the  womb  and  tomb  of  all, 
Great  Nature,  take,  and  forcing  far  apart 
Those  blind  beginnings  that  have  made  me  man 
Dash  them  anew  together  at  her  will 
Through  all  her  cycles  —  into  man  once  more, 
Or  beast  or  bird  or  fish,  or  opulent  flower  — 
But  till  this  cosmic  order  everywhere 
Shattered  into  one  earthquake  in  one  day 
Cracks  all  to  pieces,  —  and  that  hour  perhaps 
Is  not  so  far  when  momentary  man 
Shall  seem  no  more  a  something  to  himself, 
But  he,  his  hopes  and  hates,  his  homes  and  fanes, 
And  even  his  bones  long  laid  within  the  grave, 
The  very  sides  of  the  grave  itself  shall  pass, 
Vanishing,  atom  and  void,  atom  and  void, 
Into  the  unseen  forever,  —  till  that  hour, 
My  golden  work  in  which  I  told  a  truth 
That  stays  the  rolling  Ixionian  wheel, 
And  numbs  the  Fury's  ringlet-snake,  and  plucks 


180  LUCRETIUS. 

The  mortal  soul  from  out  immortal  hell, 

Shall  stand  :  ay.  surely :  then  it  fails  at  last, 

And  perishes  as  I  must ;  for  O  Thou, 

Passionless  bride,  divine  Tranquillity, 

Yearn'd  after  by  the  wisest  of  the  wise, 

Who  fail  to  find  thee,  being  as  thou  art 

Without  one  pleasure  and  without  one  pain, 

Howbeit  I  know  thou  surely  must  be  mine 

Or  soon  or  late,  yet  out  of  season,  thus 

I  woo  thee  roughly,  for  thou  carest  not 

How  roughly  men  may  woo  thee  so  they  win  — 

Thus  —  thus :  the  soul  flies  out  and  dies  in  the  air." 

With  that  he  drove  the  knife  into  his  side ; 
She  heard  him  raging,  heard  him  fall ;  ran  in, 
Beat  breast,  tore  hair,  cried  out  upon  herself 
As  having  fail'd  in  duty-  to  him,  shriekM 
That  she  but  meant  to  win  him  back,  fell  on  him, 
Clasp'd,  kiss'd  him,  wail'd :  he  answer'd,  "  Care  not  thou 
What  matters  ?     All  is  over :  Fare  thee  well ! " 


THE  GOLDEN  SUPPER. 


[This  poem  is  founded  upon  a  story  in  Boccaccio. 

A  young  lover,  Julian,  whose  cousin  and  foster-sister,  Camilla,  has  been 
wedded  to  his  friend  and  rival ,  Lionel ,  endeavors  to  narrate  the  story  of  his 
own  love  for  her,  and  the  strange  sequel  of  it.  He  speaks  of  having  been 
haunted  in  delirium  by  visions  and  the  sound  of  bells,  sometimes  tolling  for  a 
funeral,  and  at  last  ringing  for  a  marriage  j  but  he  breaks  away,  overcome,  as 
he  approaches  the  Event,  and  a  witness  to  it  completes  the  tale.] 


HE  flies  the  event :  he  leaves  the  event  to  me : 
Poor  Julian  —  how  he  rush'd  away ;  the  bells, 
Those  marriage-bells,  echoing  in  ear  and  heart  — 
But  cast  a  parting  glance  at  me,  you  saw, 
As  who  should  say  "continue."     "Well,  he  had 
One  golden  hour  —  of  triumph  shall  I  say  ? 
Solace  at  least  —  before  he  left  his  home. 

Would  you  had  seen  him  in  that  hour  of  his ! 


182  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

He  moved  thro'  all  of  it  majestically  — 
Restrain'd  himself  quite  to  the  close  —  but  now  — > 

Whether  they  ivere  his  lady's  marriage-bells, 
Or  prophets  of  them  in  his  fantasy, 
I  never  ask'd  :  but  Lionel  and  the  girl 
Were  wedded,  and  our  Julian  came  again 
Back  to  his  mother's  house  among  the  pines. 
But  there,  their  gloom,  the  mountains  and  the  Bay, 
The  whole  land  weigh'd  him  down  as  JEtna  does 
The  Giant  of  Mythology :  he  would  go, 
Would  leave  the  land  forever,  and  had  gone 
Surely,  but  for  a  whisper  "  Go  not  yet," 
Some  warning,  and  divinely  as  it  seem'd 
By  that  which  follow'd  —  but  of  this  I  deem 
As  of  the  visions  that  he  told —  the  event 
Glanced  back  upon  them  in  his  after  life, 
And  partly  made  them  —  tho'  he  knew  it  not. 

And  thus  he  stay'd  and  would  not  look  at  her  — 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER.  183 

No,  not  for  months :  but,  when  the  eleventh  moon 
After  their  marriage  lit  the  lover's  Bay, 
Heard  yet  once  more  the  tolling  bell,  and  said, 
Would  you  could  toll  me  out  of  life,  but  found  — 
All  softly  as  his  mother  broke  it  to  him  — 
A  crueller  reason  than  a  crazy  ear, 
For  that  low  knell  tolling  his  lady  dead  — 
Dead  —  and  had  lain  three  days  without  a  pulse  : 
All  that  look'd  on  her  had  pronounced  her  dead. 
And  so  they  bore  her  (for  in  Julian's  land 
They  never  nail  a  dumb  head  up  in  elm), 
Bore  her  free-faced  to  the  free  airs  of  heaven, 
And  laid  her  in  the  vault  of  her  own  kin. 

What  did  he  then  ?  not  die  :  he  is  here  and  hale  — 
Not  plunge  headforemost  from  the  mountain  there, 
And  leave  the  name  of  Lover's  Leap  :  not  he : 
He  knew  the  meaning  of  the  whisper  now, 
Thought  that  he  knew  it.     "  This,  I  stay'd  for  this  ; 
O  love,  I  have  not  seen  you  for  so  long. 


184  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

Now,  now,  will  I  go  down  into  the  grave, 

I  will  be  all  alone  with  all  I  love, 

And  kiss  her  on  the  lips.     She  is  his  no  more : 

The  dead  returns  to  me,  and  I  go  down 

/ 
To  kiss  the  dead." 

The  fancy  stirr'd  him  so 

He  rose  and  went,  and  entering  the  dim  vault, 
And,  making  there  a  sudden  light,  beheld 
All  round  about  him  that  which  all  will  be. 
The  light  was  but  a  flash,  and  went  again. 
'Jhen  at  the  far  end  of  the  vault  he  saw 
His  lady  with  the  moonlight  on  her  face ; 
Her  breast  as  in  a  shadow-prison,  bars 
Of  black  and  bands  of  silver,  which  the  moon 
Struck  from  an  open  grating  overhead 
High  in  the  wall,  and  all  the  rest  of  her 
Drown'd  in  the  gloom  and  horror  of  the  vault. 

"  It  was  my  wish,"  he  said,  "  to  pass,  to  sleep, 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER.  185 

To  rest,  to  be  with  her  —  till  the  great  day 

Peal'd  on  us  with  that  music  which  rights  all, 

And  raised  us  hand  in  hand."    And  kneeling  there 

Down  in  the  dreadful  dust  that  once  was  man, 

Dust,  as  he  said,  that  once  was  loving  hearts, 

Hearts  that  had  beat  with  such  a  love  as  mine  — 

Not  such  as  mine,  no,  nor  for  such  as  her  — 

He  softly  put  his  arm  about  her  neck 

And  kiss'd  her  more  than  once,  till  helpless  death 

And  silence  made  him  bold  —  nay,  but  I  wrong  him, 

He  reverenced  his  dear  lady  even  in  death  ; 

But,  placing  his  true  hand  upon  her  heart, 

"  O,  you  warm  heart,"  he  moaned,  "  not  even  death 

Can  chill  you  all  at  once  " :  then  starting,  thought 

His  dreams  had  come  again.     "  Do  I  wake  or  sleep  ? 

Or  am  I  made  immortal,  or  my  love 

Mortal  once  more  ?  "     It  beat  —  the  heart  —  it  beat : 

Faint  —  but  it  beat :  at  which  his  own  began 

To  pulse  with  such  a  vehemence  that  it  drown'd 

The  feebler  motion  underneath  his  hand. 


186  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

But  when  at  last  his  doubts  were  satisfied, 
He  raised  her  softly  from  the  sepulchre, 
And,  wrapping  her  all  over  with  the  cloak 
He  came  in,  and  now  striding  fast,  and  now 
Sitting  awhile  to  rest,  but  evermore 
Holding  his  golden  burden  in  his  arms, 
So  bore  her  thro'  the  solitary  land 
Back  to  the  mother's  house  where  she  was  born. 

There  the  good  mother's  kindly  ministering, 
With  half  a  night's  appliances,  recall'd 
Her  fluttering  life :  she  raised  an  eye  that  ask'd 
"  Where  ?  "  till  the  things  familiar  to  her  youth 
Had  made  a  silent  answer :  then  she  spoke, 
"  Here  !  and  how  came  I  here  ?  "  and  learning  it 
(They  told  her  somewhat  rashly  as  I  think) 
At  once  began  to  wander  and  to  wail, 
"  Ay,  but  you  know  that  you  must  give  me  back : 
Send  !  bid  him  come  " ;  but  Lionel  was  away, 
Stung  by  his  loss  had  vanish'd,  none  knew  where. 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER.  187 

"  He  casts  me  out,"  she  wept,  "  and  goes  "  —  a  wail 
That  seeming  something,  yet  was  nothing,  born 
Not  from  believing  mind,  but  shatter'd  nerve, 
Yet  haunting  Julian,  as  her  own  reproof 
At  some  precipitance  in  her  burial. 
Then,  when  her  own  true  spirit  had  returned, 
"  O  yes,  and  you,"  she  said,  "  and  none  but  you. 
For  you  have  given  me  life  and  love  again, 
And  none  but  you  yourself  shall  tell  him  of  it, 
And  you  shall  give  me  back  when  he  returns." 
"  Stay  then  a  little,"  answer'd  Julian,  "  here, 
And  keep  yourself,  none  knowing,  to  yourself ; 
And  I  will  do  your  will.     I  may  not  stay, 
No,  not  an  hour;  but  send  me  notice  of  him 
When  he  returns,  and  then  will  I  return, 
And  I  will  make  a  solemn  offering  of  you 
To  him  you  love."     And  faintly  she  replied, 
"  And  I  will  do  your  will,  and  none  shall  know." 

Not  know  ?  with  such  a  secret  to  be  known. 


188  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

But  all  their  house  was  old  and  loved  them  both, 
And  all  the  house  had  known  the  loves  of  both  ; 
Had  died  almost  to  serve  them  any  way, 
And  all  the  land  was  waste  and  solitary : 
And  then  he  rode  away  ;  but  after  this, 
An  hour  or  two,  Camilla's  travail  came 
Upon  her,  and  that  day  a  boy  was  born, 
Heir  of  his  face  and  land,  to  Lionel. 

And  thus  our  lonely  lover  rode  away, 
And  pausing  at  a  hostel  in  a  marsh, 
There  fever  seized  upon  him  :  myself  was  then 
Travelling  that  land,  and  meant  to  rest  an  hour ; 
And  sitting  down  to  such  a  base  repast, 
It  makes  me  angry  yet  to  speak  of  it  — 
I  heard  a  groaning  overhead,  and  climb'd 
The  moulder'd  stairs  (for  everything  was  vile), 
And  in  a  loft,  with  none  to  wait  on  him, 
Found,  as  it  seem'd,  a  skeleton  alone, 
Raving  of  dead  men's  dust  and  beating  hearts. 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER.  189 

A  dismal  hostel  in  a  dismal  land, 
A  flat  malarian  world  of  reed  and  rush  ! 
But  there  from  fever  and  my  care  of  him 
Sprang  up  a  friendship  that  may  help  us  yet. 
For  while  we  roam'd  along  the  dreary  coast, 
And  waited  for  her  message,  piece  by  piece 
I  learnt  the  drearier  story  of  his  life  ; 
And,  tho'  he  loved  and  honor'd  Lionel, 
Found  that  the  sudden  wail  his  lady  made 
Dwelt  in  his  fancy  :  did  he  know  her  worth, 
Her  beauty  even  ?  should  he  not  be  taught, 
Ev'n  by  the  price  that  others  set  upon  it, 
The  value  of  that  jewel  he  had  to  guard  ? 

Suddenly  came  her  notice  and  we  past, 
I  with  our  lover  to  his  native  Bay. 

This  love  is  of  the  brain,  the  mind,  the  soul : 
That  makes  the  sequel  pure  ;  tho'  some  of  us 
Beginning  at  the  sequel  know  no  more. 


190  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

Not  such  am  I :  and  yet  I  say,  the  bird 
That  will  not  hear  my  call,  however  sweet, 
But  if  my  neighbor  whistle  answers  him  — 
What  matter?  there  are  others  in  the  wood. 
Yet  when  I  saw  her  (and  I  thought  him  crazed, 
Tho'  not  with  such  a  craziuess  as  needs 
A  cell  and  keeper),  those  dark  eyes  of  hers  — 
Oh !  such  dark  eyes  !  and  not  her  eyes  alone, 
But  all  from  these  to  where  she  touch'd  on  earth, 
For  such  a  craziness  as  Julian's  seem'd 
No  less  than  one  divine  apology. 

So  sweetly  and  so  modestly  she  came 
To  greet  us,  her  young  hero  in  her  arms  ! 
"  Kiss  him,"  she  said.     "  You  gave  me  life  again. 
He,  but  for  you,  had  never  seen  it  once. 
His  other  father  you !     Kiss  him,  and  then 
Forgive  him,  if  his  name  be  Julian  too." 

Talk  of  lost  hopes  and  broken  heart !  his  own 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER.  191 

Sent  such  a  flame  into  bis  face,  I  knew 
Some  sudden  vivid  pleasure  hit  him  there. 

But  he  was  all  the  more  resolved  to  go, 
And  sent  at  once  to  Lionel,  praying  him 
By  that  great  love  they  both  had  borne  the  dead, 
To  come  and  revel  for  one  hour  with  him 
Before  he  left  the  land  forevermore ; 
And  then  to  friends  —  they  were  not  many  —  who  lived 
Scatteringly  about  that  lonely  land  of  his, 
And  bade  them  to  a  banquet  of  farewells. 

And  Julian  made  a  solemn  feast :  I  never 
Sat  at  a  costlier ;  for  all  round  his  hall 
From  column  on  to  column,  as  in  a  wood, 
Not  such  as  here  —  an  equatorial  one, 
Great  garlands  swung  and  blossom'd  ;  and  beneath, 
Heirlooms,  and  ancient  miracles  of  Art, 
Chalice  and  salver,  wines  that,  Heaven  knows  wjien, 
Had  suck'd  the  fire  of  some  forgotten  sun, 


192  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

And  kept  it  thro*  a  hundred  years  of  gloom, 

Yet  glowing  in  a  heart  of  ruby  —  cups 

Where  nymph  and  god  ran  ever  round  in  gold  — 

Others  of  glass  as  costly  —  some  with  gems 

Movable  and  resettable  at  will, 

And  trebling  all  the  rest  in  value  - — Ah  heavens  ! 

Why  need  I  tell  you  all  ?  —  suffice  to  say 

That  whatsoever  such  a  house  as  his, 

And  his  was  old,  has  in  it  rare  or  fair 

Was  brought  before  the  guest :  and  they,  the  guests, 

Wonder'd  at  some  strange  light  in  Julian's  eyes 

(I  told  you  that  he  had  his  golden  hour), 

A0d  such  a  feast,  ill-suited  as  it  seem'd 

To  such  a  time,  to  Lionel's  loss  and  his, 

And  that  resolved  self-exile  from  a  land 

He  never  would  revisit,  such  a  feast 

So  rich,  so  strange,  and  stranger  ev'n  than  rich, 

But  rich  as  for  the  nuptials  of  a  king. 

And  stranger  yet,  at  one  end  of  the  hall 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER.  193 

Two  great  funereal  curtains,  looping  down, 
Parted  a  little  ere  they  met  the  floor, 
About  a  picture  of  his  lady,  taken 
Some  years  before,  and  falling  hid  the  frame. 
And  just  above  the  parting  was  a  lamp : 
So  the  sweet  figure  folded  round  with  night 
Seem'd  stepping  out  of  darkness  with  a  smile. 

Well  then  —  our  solemn  feast  —  we  ate  and  drank, 
And  might  —  the  wines  being  of  such  nobleness  — 
Have  jested  also,  but  for  Julian's  eyes, 
And  something  weird  and  wild  about  it  all : 
What  was  it  ?  for  our  lover  seldom  spoke, 
Scarce  touched  the  meats  ;  but  ever  and  anon 
A  priceless  goblet  with  a  priceless  wine 
Arising,  show'd  he  drank  beyond  his  use ; 
And  when  the  feast  was  near  an  end,  he  said  : 

"  There  is  a  custom  in  the  Orient,  friends  — 
I  read  of  it  in  Persia  —  when  a  man 

9  M 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

Will  honor  those  who  feast  with  him,  he  brings 
And  shows  them  whatsoever  he  accounts 
"Of  all  his  treasures  the  most  beautiful, 
Gold,  jewels,  arm?,  whatever  U  may  be. 
This  custom  —  " 

Pausing  here  a  moment,  all 

The  guests  broke  in  upon  him  with  meeting  hands 
And  cries  about  the  banquet  —  "  Beautiful  ! 
Who  could  desire  more  beauty  at  a  feast  ?  " 

The  lover  answer'd,  "  There  is  more  than  one 
Here  sitting  who  desires  it.     Laud  me  not 
Before  my  time,  but  hear  me  to  the  close. 
This  custom  steps  yet  further  when  the  guest 
Is  loved  and  honor'd  to  the  uttermost. 
For  after  he  has  shown  him  gems  or  gold, 
He  brings  and  sets  before  him  in  rich  guise 
That  which  is  thrice  as  beautiful  as  these, 
The  beauty  that  is  dearest  to  his  hearts — 


0  my  heart's  lord,  would  I  could  show  you,' 


'  Ev'n  my  heart  too.'     And  I  propose  to-night 
To  show  you  what  is  dearest  to  my  heart, 
And  my  heart  too. 

"But  solve  me  first  a  doubt. 
I  knew  a  man,  nor  many  years  ago ; 
He  had  a  faithful  servant,  one  who  loved 
His  master  more  than  all  on  earth  beside. 
He  falling  sick,  and  seeming  close  on  death, 
His  master  would  not  wait  until  he  died, 
But  bade  his  menials  bear  him  from  the  door, 
And  leave  him  in  the  public  way  to  die. 
I  knew  another,  not  so  long  ago, 
Who  found  the  dying  servant,  took  him  home, 
And  fed,  and  cherish'd  him,  and  saved  his  life. 
I  ask  you  now,  should  this  first  master  claim 
His  service,  whom  does  it  belong  to  ?  him 
Who  thrust  him  out,  or  him  who  saved  his  life  ?  " 


196  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

This  question,  so  flung  down  before  the  guests, 
And  balanced  either  way  by  each,  at  length 
When  some  were  doubtful  how  the  law  would  hold, 
Was  handed  over  by  consent  of  all 
To  one  who  had  not  spoken.,  Lionel. 

Fair  speech  \vas  his,  and  delicate  of  phrase. 
And  he  beginning  languidly  —  his  loss 
Weighed  on  him  yet  —  but  warming-as  he  went, 
Glanced  at  the  point  of  law,  to  pass  it  by, 
Affirming  that  as  long  as  either  lived, 
By  all  the  laws  of  love  and  gratefulness, 
The  service  of  the  one  so  saved  was  due 
All  to  the  saver  —  adding,  with  a  smile, 
The  first  for  many  weeks  —  a  semi-smile 
As  at  a  strong  conclusion  —  "  Body  and  soul 
And  life  and  limbs,  all  his  to  work  his  will." 

Then  Julian  made  a  secret  sign  to  me 
To  bring  Camilla  down  before  them  all. 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER.  197 

And  crossing  her  own  picture  as  she  came, 

And  looking  as  much  lovelier  as  herself 

Is  lovelier  than  all  others  —  on  her  head 

A  diamond  circlet,  and  from  under  this 

A  veil,  that  seem'd  no  more  than  gilded  air, 

Flying  by  each  fine  ear,  an  Eastern  gauze 

With  seeds  of  gold  —  so,  with  that  grace  of  hers, 

Slow-moving  as  a  wave  against  the  wind, 

That  flings  a  mist  behind  it  in  the  sun  — 

And  bearing  high  in  arms  the  mighty  babe, 

The  younger  Julian,  who  himself  was  crown'd 

With  roses,  none  so  rosy  as  himself — 

And  over  all  her  babe  and  her  the  jewels 

Of  many  generations  of  his  house 

Sparkled  and  flash'd,  for  he  had  decked  them  out 

As  for  a  solemn  sacrifice  of  love  — 

So  she  came  in  :  —  I  am  long  in  telling  it. 

I  never  yet  beheld  a  thing  so  strange, 

Sad,  sweet,  and  strange  together  —  floated  in, — • 

While  all  the  guests  in  mute  amazement  rose, 


198  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

And  slowly  pacing  to  the  middle  hall, 

Before  the  board,  there  paused  and  stood,  her  breast 

Hard-heaving,  and  her  eyes  upon  her  feet, 

Not  daring  yet  to  glance  at  Lionel. 

But  him  she  carried,  him  nor  lights  nor  feast 

Dazed  or  amazed,  nor  eyes  of  men  ;  who  cared 

Only  to  use  his  own,  and  staring  wide 

And  hungering  for  the  gilt  and  jewelFd  world 

About  him,  look'd,  as  he  is  like  to  prove, 

When  Julian  goes,  the  lord  of  all  he  saw. 

"  My  guests,"  said  Julian :  "  you  are  honor'd  now 
Ev'n  to  the  uttermost :  in  her  behold 
Of  all  my  treasures  the  most  beautiful, 
Of  all  things  upon  earth  the  dearest  to  me." 
Then  waving  us  a  sign  to  seat  our.-elves, 
Led  his  dear  lady  to  a  chair  of  state. 
And  I,  by  Lionel  sitting,  saw  his  face 
Fire,  and  dead  ashes  and  all  fire  again 
Thrice  in  a  second,  felt  him  tremble  too, 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER.  199 

And  heard  him  muttering,  "  So  like,  so  like  ; 

She  never  had  a  sister.     I  knew  none. 

Some  cousin  of  his  and  hers  —  O  God,  so  like  ! " 

And  then  he  suddenly  ask'd  her  if  she  were. 

She  shook,  and  cast  her  eyes  down,  and  was  dumb. 

And  then  some  other  questioned  if  she  came 

From  foreign  lands,  and  still  she  did  not  speak. 

Another,  if  the  boy  were  hers .  but  she 

To  all  their  queries  answer'd  not  a  word, 

Which  made  the  amazement  more,  till  one  of  them 

Said,  shuddering,  "  Her  spectre  ! "     But  his  friend 

Replied,  in  half  a  whisper,  "  Not  at  least 

The  spectre  that  will  speak  if  spoken  to. 

Terrible  pity,  if  one  so  beautiful 

Prove,  as  I  almost  dread  to  find  her,  dumb  !  " 

» 

But  Julian,  sitting  by  her,  answer'd  all : 
"  She  is  but  dumb,  because  in  her  you  see 
That  faithful  servant  whom  we  spoke  about, 
Obedient  to  her  second  master  now  ; 


200  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

Which  will  not  last.     I  have  here  to-night  a  guest 
So  bound  to  me  by  common  love  and  loss  — 
What !  shall  I  bind  him  more  ?  in  his  behalf, 
Shall  I  exceed  the  Persian,  giving  him 
That  which  of  all  things  is  the  dearest  to  me, 
Not  only  showing  ?  and  he  himself  pronounced 
That  my  rich  gift  is  wholly  mine  to  give. 

"  Now  all  be  dumb,  and  promise  all  of  you 
Not  to  break  in  on  what  I  say  by  word 
Or  whisper,  while  I  show  you  all  my  heart." 
And  then  began  the  story  of  his  love 
As  here  to-day,  but  not  so  wordily  — 
The  passionate  moment  would  not  suffer  that  — 
Past  thro'  his  visions  to  the  burial ;  thence 
Down  to  this  last  strange  hour  in  his  own  hall ; 
And  then  rose  up,  and  with  him  all  his  guests 
Once  more  as  by  enchantment ;  all  but  he, 
Lionel,  who  fain  had  risen,  but  fell  again, 
And  sat  as  if  in  chains  —  to  whom  he  said  t 


THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER.  201 

"  Take  my  free  gift,  my  cousin,  for  your  wife ; 
And  were  it  only  for  the  giver's  sake, 
And  tho'  she  seem  so  like  the  one  you  lost, 
Yet  cast  her  not  away  so  suddenly, 
Lest  there  be  none  left  here  to  bring  her  back  : 
I  leave  this  land  forever."     Here  he  ceased. 

Then  taking  his  dear  lady  by  one  hand, 
And  bearing  on  one  arm  the  noble  babe, 
He  slowly  brought  them  both  to  Lionel. 
And  there  the  widower  husband  and  dead  wife 
Eush'd  each  at  each  with  a  cry,  that  rather  seem'd 
For  some  new  death  than  for  a  life  renew'd ; 
At  this  the  very  babe  began  to  wail ; 
At  once  they  turn'd,  and  caught  and  brought  him  in 
To  their  charm'd  circle,  and,  half  killing  him 
With  kisses,  round  him  closed  and  claspt  again. 
But  Lionel,  when  at  last  he  freed  himself 
From  wife  and  child,  and  lifted  up  a  face 
All  over  glowing  with  the  sun  of  life, 
ft* 


'202  THE    GOLDEN    SUPPER. 

And  love,  and  boundless  thanks  —  the  sight  of  this 
So  frighted  our  good  friend,  that  turning  to  me 
And  saying,  "  It  is  over  :  let  us  go  "  — 
There  were  our  horses  ready  at  the  doors  — 
We  bade  them  no  farewell,  but  mounting  these 
He  past  forever  from  his  native  land  ; 
And  I  with  him,  my  Julian,  back  to  mine. 


THE    END. 


Cambridge  :  Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  Weich,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


14  DAY  USE 

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